


Color It In

by ramshackleheads



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, erejearmin - Freeform, everyone loves armin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2887019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramshackleheads/pseuds/ramshackleheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin Arlert has a lot to learn. The drive to San Francisco from North Carolina is tiring, to say the least, and he doesn't really know what to expect when he gets there. He's immediately thrown into the flurry that is art school – it's exciting and mesmerising and vibrant, just how he imagined it to be. Armin finds himself entangled in a web of promising friendships and budding relationships as he makes his way through his freshman year. However, despite being dead-set on finishing the year with flying colors, he finds himself torn between a boy who charms him perfectly every single day, and a boy who is suddenly hurled back into his life with the tenacious intention to win back Armin's heart.</p><p>Somehow they make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is my first fic i've ever posted so i'm kinda anxious about it but oh well!! my love for armin (and erejearmin) is too strong to ignore so i had to do this even though it's probably rough around the edges. also i needed a good excuse to write genderfluid armin because it's beautiful and perfect and you should all get in on that headcanon. hope you guys enjoy though!! this ot3 needs more love i s2g
> 
> if you spot any mistakes please let me know because this was unbetad and only read over be me
> 
> this chapter also involves drinking/alcohol and the like so if that bothers you please be cautious about reading it ^o^
> 
> love yall

It had started with Armin barely making it up the stairs to his brand new dorm room that he would be sharing with a complete almost-stranger. Before the start of the school year, students who would be living on-campus were given the choice to fill up a questionnaire that would supposedly match you up with a roommate with similar interests. He sat at his desk at home, putting down his interests such as American literature, marine biology, and reluctantly, anime.

 

While carrying a pile of boxes up the stairs, the tip of his shoes caught on the edge of the very last step, sending all his belongings flying. Thankfully, nobody was there to see his embarrassing display of disarray.

 

" _Shit_ ," Armin swore, rubbing his poor big toe. Reluctantly, he stood up and started picking up all his stuff and trudged up another flight of stairs. Not until a guy's voice called out to him.

 

A guy with ash-brown hair with an embarrassing undercut was leaning against his doorframe. He was wearing a ratty band shirt and a pretentious scarf around his neck. There was an obnoxious smirk on his face that Armin couldn't help but stare down. The guy waved. "Hey! Hey, Blondie! Need some help?"

 

With a begrudging sigh, Armin nodded. "Yeah, actually. I'm just carrying all my stuff to my new dorm, which would be Unit..."

 

"104?" he asked quickly, while starting to pile the carefully-labelled boxes.

 

"That would be it, yeah. How'd you know?"

 

"You're a freshman, I assume? Well, I am too, and I was waiting for my roommate to arrive. Which happens to be you," the guy said with a charming smile. Armin was distracted by how straight his teeth were. "Good thing he's a cutie!"

 

 _Oh Jesus_.

 

The two proceeded to go up the stairs awkwardly. "I'm Jean Kirstein by the way. Major in photography," the guy said proudly. "You?"

 

Armin didn't really want to make conversation after such a terrible morning. He had just travelled hours to get to San Francisco with his grandfather by car, only having eaten a pancake and eggs he wasn't even sure were still edible. The car had broken down several times on the way, too. On top of all that, the fact that he tripped and fell on his very first day at art school wasn't helping. Armin really didn't want to talk, but this Jean guy was too much of a presence to ignore. Besides, the guy was going to be his roommate so he best at least try to get along.

 

He sighed quietly. "Armin. Armin Arlert. I'm taking up Art History and considering Sculpture too."

 

"That's a lot of Ars," Jean said with an awkward laugh. "Sounds like you'll be pretty busy."

 

"Nothing I can't handle, I would hope."

 

Before he knew it, they had reached their shared room. It was what he had expected — two creaky-looking beds, a bathroom the size of a shoebox, a desk for each of them, and thankfully, a small balcony with a spectacular view of a parking lot. Armin dropped the boxes unceremoniously on the floor, making clouds of dust appear. He was too tired to do anything, so he made his way to his bed (which he assumed to be his) and plopped on face down. The bed let out a pained creak.

 

Jean chuckled. "Woah there, don't tell me I'm unpacking all of this for you, dude. I may be a friendly guy, but not that much," he said, sitting on the edge of Armin's bed and patting his head. "Come on. Armin. Blondie."

 

Armin mumbled, wishing Jean would leave him alone and let him sleep. "Stop calling me that. And let me sleep. Please," he groaned out.

 

"What got you so tired, anyways? Did you like, come here from the other side of the country?"

 

"Actually, yes. All the way from goddamn North Carolina."

 

"Well, I'm just from San Diego. A few hours down. I moved here a few months ago, though."

 

Jean realized he was getting nowhere. He let out a sigh went out to the balcony for a smoke.

 

* * *

 

Despite the actual classes starting a full three weeks after his arrival, Armin wanted everything to be in order already. He had emailed all his professors giddily, introducing himself and saying that he was looking forward to learning from them. There was a particular professor, Erwin Smith, that Armin was especially excited for. He would be teaching Introduction to Art History, and Armin would be bluffing if he said he didn't have at least a _tiny_ crush on him. Mr. Smith was fairly well-known for his extraordinary teaching skills (and his muscular bombshell of a body) and one of the main reasons Armin had enrolled into this particular school.

 

Closing his laptop haphazardly, Armin pushed himself off his bed and looked over to Jean, who was playing around with his guitar. He and Jean got along fine, he supposed, but he couldn't really see the guy being into American literature, marine biology, or even anime. Armin cringed, regretting putting that interest down.

 

His roommate was a charming guy. A little too full of himself, but charming nonetheless. He laughed a little too loudly, and always wore the same shirt, but Armin could manage. In fact, in the past few days that have passed, Armin had to admit things were going better than he expected.

 

Rolling over onto his stomach and stretching, Armin glanced back at his roommate. "Jean," he said, getting the other boy's attention.

 

The sound of untuned plucking of the guitar stopped. "Yeah?"

 

"I can't really see you being into American literature, or marine biology... I mean, that's what I put down for the sheet they gave out to match you with a compatible roommate."

 

Jean chuckled. "Oh, the roommate-match thing? To be honest, I just put down random things and hoped for the best. Good thing I got lucky with someone like you," he said with a wink.

 

 _Seems like something he would do_ , Armin thought to himself. At least Jean wouldn't need to find about his well-hidden obsession with anime, thank you very much.

 

He still wanted to put up his Madoka Magica posters though. He hopped over to one of the boxes that were stashed in the corner of the room and opened it, revealing his embarassing collection of anime paraphernalia. He brought out a particular poster and flattened it on the tiny space they called the floor. Jean's attention was diverted to him as Armin stood on his tiptoes, sticking the poster on the wall adjacent to his bed.

 

"What the hell is that."

 

Armin jumped and snapped his head towards his roommate. "I-it's anime! And I'm kinda obsessed with it!"

 

Jean smiled sinisterly. Then he laughed that loud laugh of his. " _Kinda obsessed_? You're not fooling anybody, Armin, you weaboo. What anime is that?"

 

"Uh, Madoka Magica..."

 

"Sounds girly. I have nothing to do, so let's watch it, eh?" Jean said, getting off the bed to fetch his laptop. "Let's see..."

 

As Jean set up God knows what on his laptop, Armin mentally cursed himself. However, by the end of the afternoon, he didn't expect Jean to be gripping the screen of the laptop so intensely. He swore he even saw a few tears in his eyes.

 

"Armin. _What the fuck_."

  
  


* * *

 

 

 _Art school is hard._ That's the only thing that's on Armin's mind as he practically sprints across the campus after realizing he had approximately three and a half minutes to get to his very first class. He had slept in, which was very unlike his typical behavior, but Armin had learned his lesson now – listening to Jean attempt making a cover of whatever Jason Mraz song that was _all night_ was not the best thing to try and fall asleep to. It would be embarrassing, no, humiliating, to show up to his Figure Sketching class late. Armin wasn't ready for that.

 

"Run, blondie, run!" a shrill voice shouted from behind him, while a few people laughed. Armin waved them off.

 

As he ran, he watched the colorful buildings whiz past him. This class was at the other side of the whole campus, and his dorm was conveniently placed in the farthest possible area. Finally, a tan brick building caught Armin's eye, which was where his class would be held. He checked his phone. He had a minute.

 

As he caught his breath, Armin noticed the hoarde of students crowding in front of the big wooden doors. Inching his way through the crowd, he tried to sneak a look at what was happening.

 

"Holy shit," a girl whispered. "It's him."

 

Who was _he_? An excited murmur buzzed through the bunch. Thankful for his slight build, Armin ducked and was able to get to the front where he saw an intimidating looking man in an impeccable suit and slacks walking into the building. He cast a glance at the crowd and his undoubtedly plucked eyebrows drew together even more than they already were.

 

Armin turned to the girl beside him in the crowd. "Uh, who exactly _is_ he? And why is everybody so excited?"

 

The short girl blinked up at him with wide, blue eyes and smiled. "Oh hon, that's our professor," she said. "His name is Levi Ackerman. I went to his class last year and loved it so much that I came back. As to why everybody seems so excited, it's just that he's really good at what he does. This class is difficult as hell, but it's incredible. Also, Professor Ackerman definitely not an eyesore."

 

Armin nodded. “I see.”

 

The doors opened and the group of students rushed into the hall. The room they were assigned to was pristine and well-organized. Armin took a seat by the window, where the yellow sunlight flooded in. The girl took a seat beside him and leaned towards him.

 

"Freshman year, huh? How is it so far?" she asked genuinely.

 

"It's fun, I guess. I have a decent roommate, which is more than I could ask for," Armin said, bringing out his pencil case.

 

"I feel you. I couldn't stand my roommate at first, but she's my girlfriend now, so whatever. Maybe the same thing will happen to you." She chuckled. "I'm Krista, by the way. I'm a sophomore," she said with a small wave.

 

"And I'm Armin. I doubt that me and him will ever get together though," he said with a laugh. “He’s cute, though.”

  
  


Another excited murmur was heard as Professor Ackerman walked in. Armin swore he heard a girl squeal from the back of the room. He leaned against the desk in front and scanned the faces of each eager student blankly. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the desk and fixed the sleeves of his undoubtedly designer button up.

 

"I'm not much for fancy introductions, but I'm Professor Levi Ackerman, and obviously, I handle this class," he drawled. "I don't have the time or patience to learn and memorize everyone's names so I'll be skipping the pleasantries. If you want me to learn your name, there are two ways you can do that: either excel in this class or flunk it. Either way, I’ll definitely take notice of you.”

 

There were a few awkward laughs from the students who couldn’t tell if he was making a very dry joke or not. Prof. Ackerman ignored them.

 

“I expect you all to take this class very seriously and not make a fool out of yourselves. This is not a place to horse around and waste your time, because I won't be tolerating that. I don't know what you brats have heard about me, but all I ask is for you all to respect me and what I'm blabbing on about now."

 

Armin shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He had never encountered someone so... harsh before. Maybe _harsh_ wasn't the word, but intense. His professor commanded the attention of the whole class of previously unruly art students, which was a feat. And Krista was right — Professor Ackerman definitely wasn't an eyesore.

 

He cleared his throat, and Armin snapped out of his daydream. "Now, I am fully aware of the rumors going around that I'm a clean freak, and honestly, I can't deny that. I sincerely hope you lot will remember that, and learn to keep clean yourselves. Don't assume I'm willing to clean up afterwards like your glorified caretaker," he elaborated with a click of his tongue.

 

The black haired man walked back and forth at the front of the room, then finally sitting down on the comfortable looking chair behind the desk. He started filing through some papers. An awkward silence washed over the whole room for a few minutes.

 

"Hey," Armin whispered to Krista. "Am I allowed to ask him questions?"

 

The blonde girl laughed quietly. "Of course, silly. Don't be scared of him, I promise. He may act intense and all but he's really nice."

 

With a slight nod, Armin cleared his throat and looked towards Prof. Ackerman. "Sir? May I ask something?"

 

"Well, you already have, mushroom. Shoot."

 

He chose to ignore the rather creative nickname he was called. "What are the requirements for this? I mean, I bought all the brands of pencils I could find, but I just wanted to know, just in case," Armin asked shyly.

 

Prof. Ackerman smirked and let out a somewhat amused huff. "There aren't any requirements for this class, but I commend you for asking. Use what ever pencil you want, I could care less. Just make sure you submit works that are worth my time. That's all that matters to me."

 

“Thank you, Sir.”

 

The remaining time of the class was used for Prof. Ackerman to lay down the painfully specific ground rules for the class, mostly pertaining to cleanliness. Armin walked out of the building with a stack of papers carefully bound in a folder, which contained the aforementioned ground rules.

 

" _Seriously_? Did he do this last year too?" Armin huffed out. Krista was walking beside him, also lugging the folder between her underarms. “I feel like I already hate him.” She smiled amusedly.

 

"Unfortunately, yeah. I think it's even thicker this year, I swear. I felt like that last year too, though. Scared out of my mind. I almost flunked out so I had to approach him during his office hours to talk about my grades. Outside of class he’s really accommodating and surprisingly pleasant to talk to. He even gave me the chance to do extra plates so my grade could go up."

 

“Wow, awesome. I don’t want to get to that point, though.”

 

They continued to walk across the campus. Armin groaned. His small body wasn't accustomed to carrying this much stuff. With a bag slung across his shoulders, he had a hard time catching up with Krista, who was a surprisingly quick walker despite her being even smaller than he was.

 

"Oh, yeah, Arm! I can call you that, right? My friend is throwing a party in his dorm tomorrow night and it'd be cool if you went. His name's Connie, he's a little bald guy and you might see him around goofing off," she mused. "Where did you say your dorm is?"

 

"Uh, it's in Shiganshina Hall," Armin mumbled reluctantly. He didn't _really_ want to start off the year partying, but he didn't have an excuse to reject Krista's invitation. She didn't seem like the type to hang around a bad crowd, so Armin decided it wouldn't hurt to go. At least he'd meet new people that might prove to be useful in the near future.

 

"Perfect! Connie's dorm is in the same place! There'll be drinks and stuff, but we'll always be in need of more because we're all kinda too broke to buy a lot. So if you can, bring some with you. We're all starving artists here, you know," she beamed, but then her eyes widened. "I mean, if that's your type of thing. I didn't mean to assume you were cool with drinking and-"

 

"O-oh no, it's fine. I'll try to bring some. My roommate will probably want to tag along though. His name is Jean." _Damn Jean_.

 

Krista smiled brightly again and shrugged. "The more the merrier!" She checked her watch and meeped. "Oh shit, so I gotta get to my next class right now, catch you later!" she sang, jogging off to another building.

 

Armin watched her run off with an amused smile.

 

* * *

 

As usual, Armin found Jean lying on his stomach on his bed, probably dicking around on his laptop.

 

"I got you invited to a party."

 

Jean jumped up from his bed and gave a loud whoop.

 

" _Armin_. Have I ever told you that I love you? Because I do," Jean cried. "And I got you invited to one too, so we're even."

 

"Wait, what? Whose party?"

 

"This guy named Connie. He lives, like, across from us. I bumped into him this morning while getting coffee and he was naked as _hell_ because he left all his clothes in the dryer down the hall. Then he just randomly invites me to his party with his dick hanging out. Fun guy. I love art school," Jean mused. "You should come. Although you don't really seem like the life of the party."

 

"That's the same party I got _you_ invited to!" Armin sighed. "And yeah, I'm coming. Just because I don't look the part doesn't mean I won't enjoy it." He let out a laugh. "Besides, who would drag you home when you're too drunk to stand on two feet?"

 

"Jesus, we live _across_ from Connie."

 

The blond boy waved his hand dismissively and smirked. "Details, details."

 

Jean sat back down on his bed and leaned back. "So, do you have a girlfriend back home?"

 

"Nope."

 

"So you’re gay."

 

"I-I'm not gay. I kind of like... everyone. And what kind of logic did you even use to come to that conclusion?" Armin mumbled.

 

"Hmm, interesting. I don't know, I just say stuff I don't really think about."

 

Armin chuckled. "Yeah, seems like you."

 

"So, anyone? Boyfriend? Any kind of relationship?" Jean asked intently. "I had a few girlfriends back home."

 

"Nothing like that. I mean, I had a thing with this guy back in high school. His name was Eren. Nothing really after he moved away in our sophomore year. It kinda sucked though, we grew up together and we were best friends and all," Armin told his roommate.

 

"Where'd he move away to?"

 

"He said he and his family were going to New York. His dad was this big shot doctor and North Carolina wasn't cutting it for them. So he ended it. Last time I heard from him was around a month after he left. We never really kept in touch and I’ve tried to get in contact with him through Facebook but I never really mustered up enough courage to."

 

"That sucks ass, Arm. Is he still living there?"

 

"Beats me. I’m sure he’s moved multiple times. Why are we talking about his again?" Armin sighed.

 

"Sorry, I'll drop it," Jean said with a small smile. He got up, walked towards Armin's bed, and sat himself down beside the blond. "That guy, Eren, was it? He sounds like a jerk."

 

"He wasn't. He really wasn’t. It wasn't his fault or choice he had to go. I can’t blame him for anything, even though he kind of broke my little fifteen year-old heart," Armin chuckled sadly.

 

Jean patted Armin's soft locks, despite the smaller boy's half-hearted complaints. "Hey, I know what'll cheer you up. I have a gig every other Sunday at the café a few blocks from here, and just for you, I can get a few free cookies and coffees you can take home. I also work there as a barista, so if you're ever in need free two day-old baked goods, you know who to call," Jean proposed.

 

Armin's roommate was seriously winsome, the boy had to admit. And he just couldn't say no to his invitation.

 

* * *

 

On nights he was feeling particularly lonely, Armin mulled over the thought of Eren. He wondered if messaging him on Facebook after all this time would be a bad decision, and if his life would somehow change if he clicked that little button. It probably wouldn’t, he thought. They would probably make awkward small talk and things would only fade away again, leaving nothing else for them to talk about or share. If only Eren were active online, then he would have some kind of idea of what the boy was up to these days. It’s not that he cared too much, though. Armin was confident that he had gotten over the little stint; he hardly even thought about Eren unless he was directly reminded of the brown-haired boy. He was his worst in his junior year of high school, the year after Eren left, though. He remembered a particular night when he cried on the couch in his living room because he had missed him so much. Before he had left, Eren promised that even though he ended their short-lived relationship, he still wanted to remain best friends. He promised that he would message Armin on Facebook, send him pictures of the city, and everything. Eren kept his promise at first, but both of them quickly became too busy to talk to each other every night. Armin didn’t want to push it; he didn’t want to coerce Eren into interacting with him when it was obvious he was too preoccupied with life in the city. Undoubtedly, he was meeting new people who were interesting and game for anything. He couldn’t blame Eren for realizing Armin paled in comparison to the rest of the world. Armin had long accepted that being from a small town and not having an astoundingly interesting life would never be enough to convince the other boy to keep in touch. He wanted to contact Eren’s mother at times, but he decided it was humiliating to do so – Armin didn’t want to seem desperate and he definitely didn’t want Eren to feel obliged to maintain whatever shreds of a relationship they still had, if any. On bad days where he randomly missed the boy, Armin did his best to not think about it.  It had hurt at first, greatly, but it gradually became a numb throb in the center of his skinny chest.

 

But it happened three years ago. He was over it – no big deal. He may have been in love with Eren but there were many other things to focus on. He didn’t want his life to revolve around someone who had already left. Eren’s eyes were always looking up, and admittedly, Armin felt like the other was looking for much bigger things than him. So many things had happened in the past three years that made him promptly forget about the heartbreak; despite getting an astoundingly good SAT score of 2120 and being contacted by various universities all over the country, Armin had made the choice to go to art school. His grandfather was surprised but not disappointed; his grandson always had a certain penchant for art and reading about its history. The blond was craving for a new experience anyways; he wanted to finally move out of North Carolina. He was happy, if he dare say so himself.

  
  


* * *

 

Armin was pretty sure he had been staring at his suitcase full of clothes for a good hour. He didn't know what to wear; the last time he was at a full-blown party with drinks and all was in high school. He did not have fun at that party, not at all. He had war flashbacks of wearing an embarrassing sweatshirt with Japanese characters on it. Armin was pretty sure he wore sparkly jeans with it, too. He was pretty sure the night ended with him puking all the alcohol he drank on a rosebush in the backyard he was tending to.

 

He had two suitcases laid out in front of him. He opened up the one to his left, that revealed his collection of skirts, blouses, tights, and high heels. Checking the door again, he made sure Jean wasn't back from buying the drinks from the store around the corner. Just a little game of dress up won't hurt, he supposed.

 

Quickly, Armin slipped on a pink skater skirt, a sheer blouse, and black tights. He even put a small bow in his hair and admired himself in the mirror. Perfect. The blond twirled around, admiring how his skirt followed his movements. He then grabbed his phone that was sitting on the bed and opened the camera app to take a picture of his outfit.

 

That's when the door slammed open. Armin dropped his phone in shock. Shit.

 

"Oh, _hello_...?" Jean asked, perplexed. He put down the six pack of beer carefully and locked the door before he decided to react. "Who the hell are you and what have you done to Armin?!"

 

"Jean-"

 

Jean choked at the sound of the familiar soft-spoken voice. "Oh my God. It's _you_?"

 

"Yeah, it's me, and... yeah. It's me," Armin gritted out, all while covering his face with his hands.

 

"So is this like an alter-ego of yours... Like Hannah Montana? You like dressing like a chick?" Jean asked with wide eyes. He scratched the back of his head. There was a pregnant silence. "Because you look... really really good."

 

Now that was something Armin didn't expect. He had expected Jean to be weirded out enough to leave the room. Despite being flushed incredibly red, he looked up at his roommate's face.

 

"I-it's not an alter-ego... It's just that on some days I just, uh, feel like a girl. I guess. That's all," Armin said quietly. Everybody else who found out about it in the past hadn't been very understanding; they quietly ignored the fact that Armin wasn't comfortable being a boy all the time. "So I dress like one sometimes, and yeah."

 

Without giving Jean time to react, he buried his face in his hands again.

 

"Oh Armin," Jean breathed out. "You're precious."

 

"And... and I'd really appreciate it if you referred to me as 'she' or 'her' on those days. I didn't really want you to find out about this in this way, I mean, I wanted to talk to you about it seriously and all just so you wouldn't be surprised...," Armin rambled on, then he wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry."

 

Jean laughed again and ruffled Armin's hair. "Hey, chill. It may not be something I understand firsthand, but what I get is that it'll still be you no matter what. You're cute either way. Don’t sweat it, yeah? Now let's get ready for that party."

 

"Thank you, Jean. It really means a lot, y’know? Just… thank you," Armin quietly said, sniffling. He picked at the lint on his skirt.

 

Jean’s face softened. “No problem. I told you, I’m a pretty great guy.”

 

“You really are,” Armin admitted. Although he and Jean met only a few weeks prior to this, the blond had to admit his fondness for his roommate was only growing. “So what are you wearing?”

 

"I have to look my best for all potential mates," Jean guffawed. "Probably one of my nicer t-shirts and a scarf."

 

"You're a huge nerd, Jean."

 

"I'm a dashing nerd, at least," he laughed, pulling off his shirt. Armin was drawn to his roommate's lean torso and the enticing V that dipped into his loose jeans. It was definitely a nice torso. While pulling a shirt out of the closet, Jean looked over his shoulder to look at Armin. Upon noticing the blond’s stare, he clicked his tongue. "See, even the great Armin Arlert can't resist this body."

 

"Please. Just stop," Armin finally smiled, standing up to look through his suitcase to find a good outfit for himself. "You're just embarrassing yourself."

 

"Finally he smiles. Besides, there’s no such thing, Arm. Hey, how does this look?"

 

The blond stood up and patted the dust off his knees. _This dorm will be a pain in the ass to clean_ , he thought, turning to Jean.

 

Despite his pretentious scarf and overall smug face, Jean looked good. He wore a plain grey t-shirt that hugged his chest and upper arms (which were also tastefully lean) perfectly. His jeans were a dark color and it complimented his shirt. He wore red socks and silver sneakers, which added a nice touch. His checkered scarf was wrapped around his neck, and even if it looked ridiculous, Armin acknowledged that it worked with everything else.

 

"Speechless? Don't worry, I'm all too used to it, Arm," Jean gloated.

 

"Shut the hell up, Jean. Fine, you look good. Really good," Armin laughed. "Now let me get changed."

 

Armin went his way over to their shared bathroom and pulled on his skinny jeans and cream knitted sweater. He then slipped on his Toms. When he shuffled out, he heard a whistle from Jean, who was already halfway out the door, six-pack in hand.

 

"Looking good. Now let's go," Jean said.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The party was already in full force by the time they walked in Connie's dorm, which he shared with a guy named Marco. The dorm was huge, compared to Armin and Jean's; it had separate bedrooms and an actual living room with a small kitchen connected to it. Rap music was blasting through the speakers, and Armin couldn't hear a single thing. While trying to make out what Jean was trying to tell him, someone jumped on his back and clung on like a baby monkey.

 

Armin almost dropped the drink in his hand. "What the hell?!" Armin gasped, trying to shake the weight off.

 

That caught Jean's attention; his smiled only widened when he saw Connie hanging onto Armin's slender back.

 

"Connie!"

 

"Hey man! Glad you could make it. Is this little guy you were telling me about?  Armin, was it?" Connie asked excitably, and finally jumped off of the blond's back.

 

"Yeah it is," Armin heaved. Connie was heavy for someone his size.

 

"Cool! I'm Connie Springer, and I'm only in art school on the condition that I take up oil painting or some shit. Ask my parents. What I really want to do is street art. But the exposure is good, I guess. A lot of cool people, too," Connie expressed with his drink sloshing around in the cup in his left hand.

 

"Armin Arlert, I'm doing Art History," he shouted, trying to be heard above the heavy beats.

 

"Damn, I could never do that. Too many things to memorize. Anyways, new guests have arrived at my humble abode. Gotta get to it," Connie said, hopping off to God knows where. "Nice to meet you, Armin!"

 

With a wave, Armin awkwardly said bye to the hyperactive bald kid. Expecting Jean to still be by his side, he turned around, but apparently he had gone off somewhere, probably guzzling down some drinks.

 

Armin was right. After a few minutes of walking around, he spotted Jean taking shots with a bulky blond guy who looked like he could snap Armin's back in half as if he were a toothpick. Debating on whether he would save Jean from the debauchery he would be facing, he felt a soft tap on his right shoulder. It was Krista, and she was smiling up to him. It seemed as if she was always smiling. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and a flouncy skirt.

 

"Hey Arm! Did you just get here?" she asked, inviting him to take a seat on the sunken couch at the side of the room.

 

Taking a seat, Armin huffed out, "Yeah. I don't really know what to do though. I don't know anybody here aside from you and Connie, who I only talked to for like, a minute." He took a sip of the drink, which burned his throat as he swallowed.

 

"Hm, I see. Well, let's introduce you to some people. I'll call my girlfriend over; she's always quite the charmer," Krista said brightly with a flick of her pinkish blonde hair. After looking around the room for a bit, she spotted a swarthy girl with short dark brown hair. "Ymir! Come over here! And bring your friends!"

 

The girl flashed a small smirk at Krista and took a big gulp from her beer bottle, while sauntering over to the couch. Armin could feel himself shrink — there were so many people here that projected such big and intimidating personalities. Feeling small, he took another sip from his drink.

 

"A-ah," Ymir groaned out, plopping herself down on the couch and putting an arm around the smaller blonde girl. "Who's the blondie? You two look alike."

 

"This is Armin, and he's a freshie. He doesn't know anybody here and I want to get him some friends."

 

"Nice, I like fresh meat," Ymit snickered. "So, Armin, you see anybody here you find hot? You're cute, I bet if I shove you in the right direction you'd find somebody to take home in no time," she said amusedly.

 

"Ymir!" Armin heard Krista scold.

 

"Ahaha, nah, not really. I mean, I'm not really looking for someone to... take home, I guess," Armin answered. "But thanks? Sort of."

 

Ymir made a considering hum. "Interesting. Well in that case, I got nothing for you. Here, talk to Sasha. She'll show you a good time, I bet." She gestured for a brown haired girl in a ponytail at the opposite side of the room to hop over. In her hands were big handfuls of chips. “Sasha! Get your ass over here!”

 

"Heya, guys," she chirped. Her big brown eyes blinked over to Armin and she let out a squeal. "Oh my God, he's so cute. I've never seen you around!" She went over to hug Armin.

 

Not used to being hugged by complete strangers who were most probably drunk as hell, he involuntarily jerked away from the Sasha girl. "Ye-Yeah! Uh, I'm Armin and I just got here from North Carolina," he choked out.

 

"Awesome. I'm Sasha Blouse, Connie's occasional girlfriend. I kinda live in this dorm, actually. But not officially because, you know, stuff. Want some chips?" she asked with her mouth full.

 

"Uh, sure. Thanks," he coughed.

 

"So Sasha," Krista said from the other side of the couch. "How's your Oil Painting class?"

 

"Oh my _God_. We do not talk about that. It's the start of the sem, and I already feel like I'm going to flunk. Nanaba does _not_ fuck around," Sasha lamented. "Armin. Learn from me. Don't ever take Nanaba's Oil Painting class. Unless you want death."

 

Krista let out a high pitched laugh. "Oh come on. It isn't _that_ bad."

 

"Yeah, because you're a goddamned goddess when it comes to painting and shit."

 

Ymir chuckled lowly. "She's a goddess alright," she said, placing a kiss on Krista's neck.

 

Sasha mock-gagged. "Ew. PDA. Anyways, Armin, Nanaba is like the professor from hell. She acts all soft and sweet but she's insane. Her voice is really relaxing and soothing, like you could just fall asleep in her class. But you have to stay awake because she hates it when people sleep in class. Ugh." She took another sip of her beer.

 

"I see," Armin said stiffly. He could feel the alcohol slowly seeping his way into his system, making him more uneasy. Shifting in his small spot on the couch, he decided to just keep quiet and try to calm down.

 

* * *

 

Armin listened absentmindedly to the three girls on the sunken couch rattle on about an array of things for what felt like hours; they talked about things like hair dye and the new thrift shop down the road. Just as he was about to zone out again, he heard a not so distant cheering from the place Jean was taking shots a few hours ago. It was muffled at first, but it got louder and louder.

 

The girls on the couch suddenly turned their heads to the source of the cheering. Their eyes lit up in recognition.

 

"Jäger! Jäger! Jäger!" Armin heard. They were probably downing Jägerbombs, and he could bet Jean was in the middle of the whole thing. Armin sighed, accepting the fact that he'd be nursing a very hungover roommate tomorrow morning.

 

The cheering didn't cease, but that's when Krista jumped off the couch. "Come on girls, sounds like he's here," she said with a huge smile.

 

"Wait, who?" Armin tried to ask, but nobody heard him over the music and cheering. He decided it would be best for him to just follow them.

 

He weaved his way through the crowd, until he finally saw where the commotion was coming from. It looked like someone just entered the door, but Armin couldn't concentrate as the cheering didn't show any signs of dying down.

 

"Jäger, come over here!" he heard Connie shout. "Give me a hug!"

 

Jäger?

 

Armin tiptoed to see over the colorful heads of the people crowded around the door.

 

As Connie released the guy he was bear-hugging, Armin's eyes stayed unblinking as he realized just who had walked through the door of this goddamn dorm room, of all places.

 

It was Eren Jäger, complete with his unruly chestnut brown hair, expressive green eyes, and unbelievably blinding smile. Armin's ex-boyfriend, just the one who moved away to New York three years ago without as much as an explanation as to why he never called back.

 

Armin was sent reeling, and he gulped down what remained of his drink. That would explain the cheering earlier.

 

“I missed you guys a ton, holy shit,” Eren’s voice rang out, although Armin tried to block it off. He wanted to leave, he really had to leave. He also needed to find Jean right now, because otherwise he’d just feel bad ditching his roommate. Armin felt sick to his stomach, and he had a good feeling it wasn’t just the alcohol. He never expected to run into Eren again ever, or at least anytime soon. But he was here, and not just someone who was weirdly placed in the peripherals of Armin’s life.

 

Armin turned on his heels swiftly, leaving his drink on a random table. He kept his eyes peeled for his drunk roommate. After a few long minutes of searching, he was out of luck. Making sure Eren wasn’t anywhere near where he was, Armin dejectedly resigned himself to asking around if anyone had seen Jean. He figured that escaping to his own dorm would only draw more attention to himself, so he decided against it. Finally, he spotted the built guy that Jean was drinking with earlier, who was seated on the kitchen counter.

 

“H-hey,” Armin squeaked out, waving stiffly at the guy. “Have you seen my friend? Jean? He was taking shots with you awhile ago. I was supposed to bring him home but it looks like I lost him.”

 

The bigger blond turned his head towards Armin. “Oh, Jean? Last time I saw him he was running to the bathroom because he was this close to puking. Couldn’t hold in his alcohol at all. Pretty good for a freshman, though.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Armin breathed out, running over to the bathroom.

 

“No problem. The name’s Reiner, by the way!”

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully, Armin found Jean in the bathroom. He was crouched, sulking pitifully against the wall, with a cup in his hand.

 

“ _Armin_. There is a god, and he is right in front of me,” Jean sighed out.

 

Armin grunted and hoisted Jean up by his underarms. “Come on, let’s go home, Jean. Be glad I’m nice enough to not leave you behind in this bathroom.”

 

“Don’t wanna leave yet, Arm. I’m havin’ so much fun. Have you met Reiner? _What a guy_ ,” the other boy slurred out. “He let me drink his vodka.”

 

Slowly but surely, the two made their way to the hallway that lead to the front door. “Come on Jean, cooperate with me,” Armin gritted out. “I gotta get out of here. I’m not above leaving you here at this damn party if we don’t get out of here within five minutes.”

 

But that was when Jean spotted the couch Armin was seated on earlier. He somehow untangled himself from the other boy’s vice grip and ungracefully plunked himself face down into the cushions. The boy let out a sleepy noise, folding his legs up and tucking his head into his arms.

 

Armin frenetically tugged on Jean’s shirt. “Jean, _no_! We have to leave right _now_!”

 

Jean let out a long suffering groan and whined, “Lemme sleep, Armin, God.”

 

Armin closed his eyes and counted to ten, taking deep breaths. He wouldn’t freak out. No, he would stand up calmly and walk back to his dorm room. The door was just right there. Fucking Jean, he was capable of getting home by himself, right? He wouldn’t run into Eren, who he wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to talk to right now, even if he thought he would be if the time ever came. Armin squeezed his fists, opened his eyes and prepared to stand up. He felt a weight drop down next to him on the couch.

 

“Never pegged you as the type to get wasted at parties like this.”

 

It felt like time stopped for a few seconds and Armin couldn’t exactly process where the boyish voice came from. The blond turned around slowly; he felt like his entire body was burning up.

 

It was Eren, his head tilted with an innocent expression. There was a full cup in his hand, and his legs were crossed casually. Music continued to pump through the speakers, and people continued to chatter on all around them. Armin wished he had never agreed to go to this party. His ears were ringing.

 

“I’m not wasted,” was all he could muster. He exhaled shakily and then snapped his head up at Eren, who was in a stupid maroon hoodie and stupid skinny jeans and stupid-

 

He gave Armin a soft smile, and the blond felt all his thoughts fly out of his previously well-mounted head.

  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again and happy new year!! here's a new chapter
> 
> feedback is much appreciated ^^

_**Three years prior** _

 

North Carolina summers were cool and dry. Eren never minded it, though – it was his favorite season, in fact. Armin disliked it slightly – his skin would always peel and his eczema would finally show itself in red rashes up and down his arms and neck. He covered it up with thick sweaters and hoodies that he only used when the season came around.

 

Growing up, the two boys would explore the edges of the forest nearby together, collecting funny looking rocks and petting the occasional wild rabbit. Whenever Armin was scolded by his grandfather for whatever reason, he would run out to the forest and sit on one of the small tree stumps he and Eren had claimed as "theirs". He cried there often, hiccuping out small sobs that were barely heard over the sound of the leaves rustling. Eren found him there most of the time, claiming he had a sixth sense called the "Armin sense". The brunet was a rowdy and mischievous kid, but he always found ways to make Armin smile again.

 

In the daytime Eren and Armin would go skateboarding down the streets of their suburb (it was more of Armin watching and running after the other boy instead of actually skating). In the afternoon he would always get dragged along to have a late lunch at Eren’s. They always helped themselves to chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes they never seemed to tire of. The brunet’s family was nice, he supposed. Carla was generous but a little too overbearing; Eren being the only child in the small family made his mother put all her attention on him. She had a slight accent that Armin couldn't place. On the other hand, Grisha was a quiet man, and whenever Armin was subjected to small talk with him whenever Eren left the room for a short while, the conversation never got anywhere. He was fine with it, the only reason he was here was because of Eren, anyways.

 

Their first kiss was clumsy, but it was expected. Armin had just come out of the shower and was wearing an embarrassing t-shirt from a summer camp he reluctantly attended four years prior. There was a weird look in Eren's eye the whole night, and Armin didn't know what to feel about it. He wanted to talk, but was too apprehensive to bring it up.

 

"Hey, Arm?" Eren had asked while his eyes were still glued to the screen of his TV.

 

"Y-yeah?"

 

Turning off the TV, Eren coughed awkwardly. He had never felt so uneasy around the other boy before. The brunet had been planning this night out for weeks, thinking it over every night after Armin went home.  

 

"I wanted to be smooth about it, but I really want to kiss you. I mean, I've been wanting to for a long time," Eren admitted, his face burning. Realizing he was probably putting Armin in an uncomfortable situation he faced the other boy quickly to gauge his reaction. As he expected, Armin's mouth was agape and his bright blue eyes were wide and shocked. "I-I'm sorry! You don't need to.... if you don't, you know, want to. Crap, I'm sorry."

 

"Eren!" Armin meeped out. "I want to. Uh, I've been thinking about it a lot." He chuckled out quietly. "I really don't know how to, though. I've never kissed anybody before."

 

Grinning, Eren hopped over to where Armin was sitting. "Me neither. But let's do it anyways."

 

They leaned in closer to each other, and their noses bumped a few times. Armin swore his whole body was turning a deep shade of scarlet, so he just closed his eyes. He felt Eren's thick eyelashes flutter against his own. Suddenly, their lips touched briefly and both of them couldn't help but giggle.

 

"Hey, hey. Wanna do it with tongue? I watched a few videos on YouTube," Eren said slyly against the other boy's lips.

 

They kissed each other gently for hours, until Carla's rhythmic knocking on Eren's door snapped them out of their moment. Armin promised himself he would never forget it, and it kept him smiling and blushing for weeks.

 

Their first two years of high school was something definitely new – they previously went to middle school only a few blocks away from both their houses, now their high school was a whole bus ride away. It took Armin his whole freshman year to blossom out of his lanky boyishness. Although traces of it were still there, he was finally growing into his own skin gradually. Armin also made a few friends here and there, but he preferred to keep to himself. On the other hand, Eren had found his new friends right off the bat, luckily, and it wasn’t surprising.

 

After school days, it was by routine that the two boys went over to the Eren’s house to have dinner and play a few games on the brunet’s brand new XBox. Armin noticed that Grisha always given him the side-eye, for some reason. He always supposed that is was his hair, which he allowed to grow out for years. It might’ve also been his soft and and girlish mannerisms that he found strange and unfitting for a boy his age. The blond was hurt by it, and didn’t see what the actual issue was, but didn’t want to raise a stink by confronting Eren’s father about how he felt. As time went on, Armin came to the conclusion that it was because he always sat  too close to Eren to be considered a “friendly distance”, and they always shared flitting glances across the room. He was also pretty sure Grisha caught Eren absentmindedly rub his thumb on the soft part on Armin’s left hip once, when they were sure nobody else was watching.

 

It was never brought up, despite being an elephant in the room especially when the two grew older.

 

On one of those summer nights, Armin was sitting on Eren’s soft bed listening to Counting Crows from his old iPod. He lay flat on his back on his boyfriend's bed, memorizing all the cracks and stains on Eren's ceiling. The brunet’s muffled singing could be heard from the shower. It was the night before Eren was bound to fly out to New York. Armin felt like his heart was about to fall out of his chest, and he didn’t want to go back home. The sound of the shower abruptly stopped and the bathroom door creaked open.

 

“Armin, you still here?” Eren asked softly.

 

“Yeah. Don’t want to go home.”

 

Eren ran his hand through his wet hair. “My flight is at 5:30 tomorrow morning.”

 

“You told me that, like, five times already,” Armin exhaled, facing away from the other boy in front of him. The air was still outside the window, and the streetlights were about to flicker on. He could see his house from across the street. The window of his grandfather’s room was on, and he was still waiting for Armin to come home. He let out small distressed huffs.

 

“Armin, stop that. You’re being difficult right now. I’m trying to be positive about it and-”

 

The blond boy drew in a quick breath. “I’m _sorry_ I can’t see anything positive about it, okay? I’m happy for you, that you’re finally seeing the city, and yet I can’t do anything about it,” he rambled. Eren stared at him with wide eyes. His quiet breaths came methodically. Armin couldn't help but want to kiss him, on the bed, in the shower, on the floor. Everywhere. But he was angry, and anger towards the other boy was the last thing he wanted to feel that night. Armin wiped the sweat on his palms on his jeans. “I-I should go.”

 

“No! Wait, Armin,” Eren said hastily. He paused for a few seconds, clicking his tongue, and was prompted on by the other boy’s silence. “I don’t want this… _thing_ to end, whatever it is between us, but it’ll be hard, it’ll be so hard. I don’t even know what I want to do with you.”

 

Eren walked over to his are nightstand and flicked the light on. Light illuminated the dark room only slightly, and the brunet sat next to Armin, taking his hands. He sighed. "I shouldn't have said that, fuck. I want to continue being your boyfriend, or whatever weird version of that this is, but I hardly know what I'm doing. We're just fumbling around, and Armin, you've gotta help me out," he laughed out bitterly. "Sometimes I really fucking hate my dad."

 

He faced Eren. His eyes looked glassy and he was biting his lip hard enough for it to start bleeding. He really didn't want to be angry. “I should really go," Armin rasped. "My grandfather’s waiting. I-I don't want to keep him up. Plus, you're getting up early tomorrow... I'll just. I'll go."

 

“I’ll call you though,” Eren promised. “I’ll message you on Facebook, and send you pictures. I’ll even send you gifts on Christmas and your birthday. You’ll like that, right? I’m... I'm still your friend,” he rushed out desperately. "Say something. Please."

 

The other nodded and stood up. “Yeah. I am, too.”

 

"I'm still your best friend, Armin," Eren choked out as he grabbed onto the other boy's shirt sleeve and pressed his lips against Armin’s dry ones. It was a soft kiss, and he felt a small bead of sweat run down his neck. He felt everything. Eren's fingers threaded into his hair and he pulled his lips back to take a deep breath.

 

“I don’t want to apologize. It’s not my fault,” Eren mumbled between their kisses. “I don’t want to, but fuck, I’m _sorry_. I'm so sorry."

 

He swallowed all his words down, and kept quiet as Eren kissed him against the door.

 

Armin's skin felt itchy the whole walk back to his house.

 

* * *

 

 "You need help bringing your friend home? He looks knocked out," Eren said amusedly, nodding towards Jean.

 

Armin was starting to get over his initial shock and he felt the ire seep into him. He continued to stare at Eren sharply, not paying attention to anything else going on around him. Eren looked so earnest and ready to give him a hand, but fuck, what was he even doing here?

 

"I don't need help, Eren," the blond bit out.

 

Eren's thick eyebrows drew together at the sight of Armin's clenched fists. "You can punch me if you want; your fists look ready to do it."

 

"Stop changing the subject. I don't need your help."

 

Eren pursed his lips and looked away. There were still a fairly large number of people in the room, and they obliviously glanced over at the brunet and nodded in recognition. Armin noticed that Eren seemed pretty popular around this crowd, and he couldn't help but wonder why. He also noticed that Eren kept playing around with the end of the hair by his ear. It was a nervous tic of his that Armin first observed when they were both kids as Eren watched his father leave for his many business trips.

 

"At least let me talk, Armin," he muttered out.

 

"Where have you even been? Aren't you supposed to be living it up in New York?"

 

"Look," Eren said. "I want to explain myself."

 

Armin laughed out bitterly and rubbed his eyes. He still felt slightly sick, having drinking more than he was used to. "You're really giving me a reason to punch you, you know that? I don't even know what the hell you're doing here."

 

"Can we go back to your dorm?" Eren mumbled, still looking away.

 

" _Excuse me_?"

 

"I-I didn't mean- Sorry. I just want to talk to you about... Everything, I guess. I didn't mean it like that," Eren rushed out, timidly. He was different from the boy who so confidently waltzed into the party as if it were his.

 

Armin scoffed and stood up. "You know what? I don't even care. If you want to talk in my dorm, then let's talk there."

 

Taking one last exasperated look at Jean, who was sound asleep, Armin took one last opportunity to feel guilty for ditching him. He was sure someone like Connie or Reiner was patient enough to help the guy out. The two maneuvered themselves out of the party and into Armin's dorm. It was difficult for Armin to mute out the whoops and cheers from people in the room that assumed he and Eren would be up to other less innocent things.

 

"That's my boy!" he heard Ymir call out from somewhere. It only made Armin feel more distressed about the whole situation. He felt his palms get sweatier, and tears threatened to fall out of his eyes. He wished he could just drown everything and everyone out.

 

Making sure to keep a good distance from the boy, Eren walked slower and kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as to not make Armin feel uncomfortable. He was well aware that he was treading on eggshells.

 

Armin shut the door to his dorm quickly. He didn't turn around right away and kept his hand on the door handle. "Sit," he told Eren.

 

"I didn't know I would be seeing you here, tonight, of all places," Eren said softly. "I didn't know how to approach you. I thought I would just be going to Connie's party to have a few drinks and meet everyone again, but I saw you."

 

"I kind of wish you didn't at all, actually."

 

"Armin. I can't even talk, I can't. I don't know what to say," the brunet sighed out, continuing to twirl the soft tufts of hair at the side of his head.

 

"You're the one who wanted to talk, Eren. What do you even want from me? What the hell would you even need?" Armin faltered, turning around to face Eren.

 

Eren gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "I know it sounds so fucking pathetic, but I just wanted to start off by saying that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not getting around to stay in touch after saying all that shit before I left. I'm sorry I don't even have an excuse that would somehow make me not look like an asshole. I'm-"

 

"Shut up. Just shut up, Eren," Armin rasped, taking a seat next to him on the bed. "I can't even believe this. I'm not sure if I even want to hear you talk about it."

 

The other boy chuckled sadly. "I really wish you'd just punch me to get it over with."

 

The blond stood up abruptly, surprising Eren. "You know what? I think I will. I'll punch you. You made me depressed for a year and maybe even more than that, Eren. I'll punch you," he hissed. "So stand up."

 

Eren got up dutifully and bit the side of his tongue. "Go for it. As many times as you want."

 

Armin raised his right fist hesitantly and squeezed it hard. He brought his arm down quickly and as strongly as he could, only to plunk it down heavily on Eren's stiff shoulder and let it fall down his side. His hand was shaking. Eren stared at him intently.

 

"Eren," he wheezed desperately. "I can't."

 

His fingers then found their way to the brunet's hair, and their lips violently clashed together in a disjointed kiss neither of them expected. Armin felt Eren stumble backwards and try to keep his balance.

 

"I didn't want to kiss you," Armin mumbled. Eren didn't say anything, instead, he wrapped his strong arms around the blond's small body and kissed him again.

 

"Don't, then."

 

Armin hissed out as Eren ran his warm hands down his back. "I hate you, but I missed you so much," he gritted out, kissing the other again. "You don't know how I felt."

 

They tugged on each other's shirts clumsily in the middle of the dim and cramped room. Eren's breathing grew labored. "You're not letting me _talk_."

 

In the few years of his absence, Armin noticed that Eren looked more like an adult. Although they were the same age, Eren matured into something Armin could only dream of — his jawline was sharp and defined, he stood tall and proud, his arms and chest were solid, and he was no longer the gangly teenager he used to be. Armin felt like he was suffocating under the realization that he had hardly gone through a metamorphosis like the other boy. So he pushed Eren onto the bed, not fully coherent and aware of what he was doing.

 

"Armin, wait-" Eren stuttered out urgently. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes," he hissed out. The bed let out a few pained creaks as they shifted ungracefully on it. Full of conflicting emotions, Armin kissed Eren more aggressively. " _Fuck you_."

 

"I-I know! I know, and I'm sorry." Eren took the moment to catch his breath. "I don't want to you to hate me any more than you already do, Arm. Calm down," he said lowly.

 

Eren's raspy voice only fueled on Armin more, making his groan hotly against the brunet's damp neck. He felt himself harden in his jeans and press his body closer to Eren's. "I can't calm down. Do this for me," he gasped out. "Please."

 

The other boy was taken aback by Armin's forwardness and reckless thinking. He never knew Armin have this kind of assertion when it came to things like this. However, it wasn't surprising to feel pressure in his own groin. Eren began to kiss back aggressively, too, all while letting out small hitches of pleasure. They tangled together like they used to, only they weren't in Eren's old bedroom, and they didn't have to choke back their moans out of fear that his parents would hear. They were here, years later, but Armin felt like a teenager again. Conflicted and clumsy, but he didn't have time the question it.

 

Before he knew it, Armin began to grind and rub himself on Eren's upper leg. It felt good, so good, to have Eren like this beneath him. He let out a high pitched moan and squirmed out of arousal.

 

"Fu-fuck, Armin, you're so hot," the other boy groaned. "Missed you."

 

The pressure in between both boys' hips only grew the more they moved together. Eren grabbed onto Armin's hips tightly and buried his nose into the blond hair of the other boy. There was a slight shift in their position, and this change made both of them cry out. Armin embarrassedly bit down on his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut. His breath hitched as Eren brought his hands from his hips to Armin's ass with a strong grip.

 

"Oh God, Eren. I'm- I'm close," he slurred out. "O-oh!"

 

Eren removed his right hand from Armin's ass and starting palming at the prominent bulge of the blond's jeans.

 

"Fuck, Eren, yes," he gritted out. "I'm almost there."

 

"Come on, Arm, yeah," Eren groaned. "You look so good right now."

 

After a few more seconds of gyrating his hips, Armin reached his peak. The volume of his moan was humiliating enough to make him run into the bathroom and not come out until he was sure Eren was gone, but escaping didn't really seem like a plausible thing to do. It seemed that Eren also orgasmed from the fact that his eyes were shut peacefully and his breathing evened out. The tanner boy let his arms wrap around the other one, but Armin didn't feel calm enough to bask in the moment. His pants and underwear felt wet, and he squirmed uncomfortably.

 

Slowly, Eren opened his eyes and looked at Armin. "You don't hate me even more, right?"

 

"I'm just angry," Armin sighed. "I kind of hate _myself_ more right now, though."

 

Eren laughed, but there wasn't any shred of humor in it. Instead of pacifying Armin, he rubbed circles into his shoulder and upper back instead. "Imagine how I feel."

  


* * *

 

 

The two took time to catch their breaths, and it was silent for minutes. Eren lay next to Armin, and his arm was wrapped around the blond's shoulder firmly. Although he disliked the idea of their instantaneous closeness, the blond needed it. He felt touched starved. Their shirts felt grossly damp but neither felt the motivation to get up and clean themselves off.

 

"Where have you even been?" Armin asked finally.

 

Eren grunted. "Long story."

 

"I want to know, though. You do owe me an explanation, you know."

 

A guilty look flashed across Eren's pinkish face. "I left for New York as soon as I could. My parents sent me to a private school with uniforms and everything — I _hated_ it. I told them I couldn't cope and my dad didn't talk to me for awhile. My mom was a bit more accepting, though." Eren paused for awhile, probably thinking about what to say next. "The finally let me off after awhile, but I think Dad is still angry. I was all over the place for awhile, trying to get whatever job I could," Eren told him. "Somehow I got myself small-time modeling gigs from friends of friends."

 

"Modeling," Armin repeated. "Huh." It wasn't that far-fetched. Eren was always handsome, and even in his awkward middle school phase, he wasn't that bad at all. Now, he wasn't anything less than attractive. It was obvious that he worked out, and all his features sharpened and matured fittingly. His body was perfect, too — he didn't look bulky or too muscular for someone with his build. Armin took this information in.

 

"Yeah. I met this girl, Mikasa, who did a shoot with me back in LA. We became really close and looked out for each other. She didn't have much, and in a way, neither did I. Even if my parents still deposited money into my account, I never really wanted to use it. I don't know. We moved into a tiny apartment together. Don't get the wrong idea, though. She's like my sister.

 

"One day, she got a call from her uncle, who's a professor here. He asked her if she wanted to be a model for some of the classes, and if she knew anybody else who wanted to. He offered to pay for both of our flights, and even let us stay with him for awhile. So that's how we both got here, about a year ago. I'm actually doing it again for his classes again this year, but only for his other class, which is for the third years," Eren explained.

 

"So where is she now? Mikasa, I mean," Armin inquired.

 

"Oh, Mikasa still lives with me here. We rent an apartment near the school. After doing a few more odd jobs aside from the occasional shoot and coming in to model for some classes, we both saved up enough money to finally move out."

 

"Oh, okay. You've been up to a lot."

 

"I have. And you noticed how I seemed to know all those people at the party, right? I got close to them because I was the model for most of their freshmen classes. I clicked automatically with Connie, Sasha, and Reiner. I met everyone else because of them," the brunet said quietly. They could still hear and feel the muffled music from the room across from them, and Armin wondered about Jean. He hoped that he was fine.

 

"Where did you come from most recently, though?"

 

"Oh, I just flew in from Germany. I got an email a summer back from a fairly big fashion magazine over there, saying they wanted me to do a shoot with them," Eren chuckled. "At first I honestly thought it was a hoax. I never thought this modeling this would take off, because it started off as just a way to make quick cash. I still don't know how they found me. But I was there for a few months all by myself."

 

Armin nodded, shifting a bit. He didn't know what to say next, so he just let himself catch his breath some more. After minutes of silence, he cleared his throat. It already felt sore. Armin debated on whether or not he should take medicine already to avoid it hurting more in the morning, but decided against it because he was oddly comfortable where he was.

 

"Hey, Eren." No response. "Eren," he prodded on.

 

He turned his head, only to see the tan boy beside him fast asleep already. He was snoring softly and rhythmically, mumbling out incoherent fragments occasionally. It was relaxing watching the boy sleep — the small crease between bushy eyebrows were virtually nonexistent, and the way his dark eyelashes fanned out across his still pink cheeks had Armin staring at his peaceful face for longer than he originally intended to. Both of them smelled of sweat, but underneath that, the blond could still smell traces of something akin to pine trees. He leaned in a bit closer to the sleeping boy for an excuse to confirm this.

 

There was nothing he could do to make Eren talk more, it seemed. Admittedly, listening to his all-too familiar voice telling him all about what he'd been up to all this time was cathartic. Although his petulance hadn't entirely faded away yet, somehow the short time they had just spent together was an instant reason for Armin to question himself a bit. Armin didn't want his judgement to be clouded by his post-coital bliss, though. It was a dangerous thing to do, and every remaining rational part of him was nagging at him, telling him that he was about to take a long-winded road of bad, bad decisions.

 

"Shut up," Armin huffed out to the little voices in his head. Eren continued to make soft noises. The blond lulled in and out of sleep for awhile, and eventually gave into his fatigue when the music from across the hall stopped entirely.

 

* * *

 

It was perfectly logical to assume Eren would take off in the morning before Armin woke up. Soft light gleamed into the room through the translucent curtains, and the blond almost forgot he wasn't at home in his childhood house in North Carolina — these were the same curtains he had in his room. But Eren didn't leave — instead he remained buried in the other's bedsheets and curled up comfortably around the other boy's cozy frame. Armin jolted awake as soon as he became fully aware of the strong arms wrapped around him. His head shot up, and unfortunately collided with Eren's chin.

 

"Mother _fuck_ -" Eren swore as he recoiled from it.

 

Armin immediately felt guilty for both waking and hurting the boy who was just recently sleeping serenely. "Oh my God, I'm sorry!"

 

"'M fine," the other croaked out. "Do you, uh, have headache medicine?"

 

Eren rubbed the back of his head and ruffled his brown hair, making more of a mess of his bedhead. Now that Armin was fully awake and sobered up (thankfully his body never really felt the full effects of a hangover) he could now appreciate Eren's toned upper body. Before he got distracted, though, he quickly stood up from his bed and rummaged through his bag for the pouch of medicine.

 

"Here," Armin said as he handed a few pills to Eren, who was still sitting in bed. "Uh, so..."

 

"Do you have a class today?"

 

"Yeah, actually. In..." Armin checked his phone. "Two hours."

 

Eren nodded. His face was oddly blank; usually he was so expressive and an open book, but Armin just couldn't read his at the moment like he usually could. The brunet bit his lower lip and stretched his tan arms, letting out a sleepy groan. "I should get going, then. Besides, your roommate might be coming in pretty soon," he said.

 

"I'm not counting on it. He's probably still passed out on Connie's couch," Armin chuckled. "But if you want to go, then go ahead."

 

"I don't want to get in your way. I'll just take a quick shower, if you don't mind."

 

"Sure."

 

Armin went out to the balcony to get some fresh air, or at least as fresh as it could get. He didn't know what was going on. Although they didn't have full on sex, the realization of what they did the night before was beginning to sink in. He definitely didn't intend to get intimate with Eren the same night he saw him after years, or anytime soon, actually. But he did, and the thought alone made Armin clam up. He thought he already had everything sorted out in his head. Armin knew his priorities. All he wanted to do was talk, nothing more, nothing less. Although they had, briefly, the two just got entangled with one another without a second thought.

 

What bothered Armin the most was that he knew Eren wanted to talk, too. He was the one who suggested they went somewhere quieter and more isolated, even. Guilt flooded Armin's body; he got too carried away with seeing Eren again that his rationale practically disappeared. After this morning, Armin probably wouldn't even be able to show his face to the other boy again, much less hold a proper conversation with him. There was still so much to be said between them though, but neither of them opted to speak up first.

 

When Armin went back into the stuffy room, Eren stood by the door of the dorm, jittery. He had all his clothes back on, and even fixed the bed while Armin was deep in thought. "I, uh. I know I probably won't be able to make up for what I did properly any time soon," he figured. "But the fact that I'm still reckless as hell hasn't changed. I have no idea if this is the smartest thing to do, but I left my number on one of the sticky notes on your desk. Give me a call anytime. I still want to talk."

 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Armin nodded and looked away. He still didn't have the heart to look Eren in the eye. Without another word, the brunet slipped out of the dorm quietly.

 

He walked over to his desk to look for the sticky note with Eren's number. He found it easily; the phone number was written in the same wide and messy handwriting he could recognize even from a mile away. He reluctantly tucked it into the drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

* * *

 

By some streak of bad luck, Armin's first class of the day was Introduction to Art History with none other than Professor Smith. Making sure he didn't repeat his earlier mishap with Professor Ackerman, he took a brisk shower and got dressed right away.

 

The thoughts of the events that took place the night before and earlier that morning still clouded his mind, but he forcefully pushed it to the back of his mind. Right now, he needed to focus. He wasn't about to let his whole academic year go down the drain just because of a stupid decision that involved a specific (and admittedly magnetic) ex-boyfriend.

 

When Armin got to the class, Prof. Smith was already seated in front. In pictures, he looked perfectly trimmed and comely, and always put on a neutral face. As expected, Armin saw that he was in an expensive-looking blazer that matched the rest of his sharp ensemble.

 

What surprised him, though, was the fact that the professor had his phone pressed up against his ear with a wide grin across his face. Armin could've sworn there was a pinkish tint across his defined cheekbones, too. Thankful for his acute hearing, he promptly took a seat in the first row and clandestinely listened in to Prof. Smith's phone conversation. Nobody could blame him for his curiosity. He saw other students slyly eavesdropping, too.

 

"Hush, you," he heard the professor say. "Make sure you feed Bean, I know you're not doing anything until later."

 

The voice on other other end was garbled, and Armin couldn't make out what was being said.

 

Prof. Smith chuckled fondly. "Oh, you and your toilet jokes. I'm going to have to clean out that mouth of yours. I do find it cute though. You're like a grumpy little cat."

 

After a minute or so of what seemed like playful banter, he ended the phone call with a, "Love you. See you tonight". The man pocketed his phone and cleared his throat, all while impressively training his face to melt into his distinguished neutral expression. Armin was amazed at how quickly his professor could change character.

 

This was definitely a good distraction.

 

Prof. Smith cleared his throat once more. "My apologies, that was my partner on the phone," he said. "Now, to start this class, I'm Professor Erwin Smith. I believe all of you know what you're here for, which is Art History. First of all, I would like to thank all of you for being here. Hopefully, everyone will remain in this class until the end of the semester."

 

Armin listened intently to his professor's lengthy introduction. It seemed as if the man were giving a formal speech, but he couldn't forget how amusing it was to watch him flirt over the phone.

 

Then, the course syllabus was handed out. From the looks of it, it seemed that majority of the topics that would be covered was part of some of the advanced reading Armin did over the summer back home. _I have this class in the bag_ , he thought to himself proudly.

 

As he gave time for the class to study the syllabus some more, Prof. Smith put on his reading glasses and sifted through some papers on his desk. The students around Armin chattered, but the man in front didn’t seem to mind the noise.

 

"Now, I would love to know what all of you expect from me, or from this class. It would help me greatly if I had your expectations in mind as I go through this semester," he explained. The class murmured nervously, undoubtedly intimidated by Prof. Smith. Armin took a deep breath, not sure if he wanted to be called or not.

 

"Arlert," he suddenly heard from the front of the room. "You go first." There was a minute smile of his professor's face.

 

Armin stood up jerkily. "I-uh," he faltered. "Um. Of course, I want to broaden my knowledge on the subject matter from this class. But aside from that, I also want to take on this challenge because I think it'll be a good opportunity to have a cultured and intellectual experience, with all of you, of course."

 

He suddenly became aware of all the attention directed towards him, and he meeped nervously. Armin rambled on. "Also, admittedly, I wouldn't pass off the opportunity to take a class or two if you were the one teaching it, Sir."

 

Prof. Smith chortled amusedly, and a few other students laughed and nodded along in agreement. "Good answer, Arlert. Sit down. Next... Let's see, Dreyse?"

 

Armin sat down with an obvious blush on his face. A few people seated near him gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, and the blond laughed, much to his chagrin.

 

* * *

 

In the next few days, Armin only saw Jean very briefly each day, despite them being roommates. The blond got up much earlier than the other, whether or not he had an early class that day. They saw each other around campus sometimes. When he got home from a tiring day, Jean was still nowhere to be found, doing God knows what.

 

Armin silently hoped that Jean learned his lesson from the party.

 

According to Krista, she, Ymir, and Sasha were Jean’s impromptu caretakers that night. Despite the music and chattering continuing on for hours after the boy passed out, he still slept like a rock and didn’t respond to anything. The three girls were subjected to tuck him in as the party wounded down, and Connie was also subjected to let him crash on his couch for the night – there seemed to be no other options since dragging a drunk and very much asleep Jean across the hallway would be too much of a production.

 

When Armin asked Jean about all this, though, he immediately denied all of it.

 

But of course, Jean also wondered what Armin got up to for the rest of that fateful night. He pestered the blond with questions and begged him to spill, but he got nowhere. Even if the blond hadn’t budged, Jean knew something was up but didn’t want to push him. He eventually let it be because Armin seemed to be less and less on edge as the days passed.

 

Armin didn’t actually know why he didn’t want to tell Jean about what had transpired in their very dorm room. He had a feeling that if he told him, _hey, remember that ex-boyfriend I told you about a week ago that ditched me three years ago? Yeah, he showed up at the party and I basically slept with him_ , wouldn’t go over too well. Especially with Jean. He meant well, but he was provoked easily and quickly, and besides, Armin didn’t want to get more people involved in his mess.

 

He also wasn’t over the fact that he was still ashamed of his lack of discretion.

 

The day of Jean’s much-awaited gig at the local café came around eventually. The day before, he tirelessly reminded Armin about it and made sure he would be attending.

 

The café, which was named Freiheit, looked like any old coffee shop – its walls were painted earthy colors and cozy looking couches and chairs were placed all around. A small carpeted stage was set up in one corner, and Armin assumed that’s where Jean was set to perform.

 

It seemed that he was the first one of Jean’s friends that had arrived. To his knowledge, Connie, Reiner, Sasha, and all the others were set to come, too. He was about to order a coffee for himself when he felt somebody bump into him from behind.

 

It was Jean, and for once, he wasn’t wearing a band tee. Instead, a flannel button-up was draped on him, and he wore khakis along with clean looking Vans. A heavy looking guitar case was on his back. He looked like he just ran a marathon.

 

“Armin!” Jean said excitedly. “You came.”

 

“After you bugged me about it every ten seconds for the past week, I figured I had no other choice,” Armin deadpanned.

 

“Very funny, Blondie. Now, I have to go set up since just I got a call from my mom a few minutes ago, which was seriously the best time. I was almost late because I can’t put down the phone on her,” he panted. “Oh yeah, your coffee’s on the house today.”

 

Armin watched Jean scurry into the back room, probably to retune his acoustic guitar for the nth time. With a fond sigh, he decided to line up to get his free coffee, only to be greeted with familiar voices behind him. The previously relaxing atmosphere of the small café suddenly became noisy with the group of people that just walked through the doors.

 

He tried to act normal and pretended to get not noticed by the others by quietly sipping at his coffee by the counter, but before he knew it, he was enveloped in Sasha’s bear hug.

 

“Armin! Nice to see you!” she exclaimed. “We were wondering if we’d see you here.”

 

The blond looked around over the enthusiastic girl’s shoulder. He saw everyone he knew Jean invited, along with a couple of new faces. They were all babbling boisterously, undoubtedly disturbing all the other customers who came to Freiheit for some peace and quiet. Not until the intimidating blonde girl who happened to be the barista all shushed them with a sour expression on her face.

 

Connie, Krista, and everybody else proceeded to greet Armin as if they hadn’t seen him in months. Although this was only the second time he met most of them, their presence was relaxing and welcoming. After everyone got their respective drinks (which all happened to be free thanks to Jean), they took their seats in front of the stage. Krista took a seat near Armin and tapped his shoulder gently.

 

“Hey, Armin,” she mock-whispered.

 

With a soft laugh, Armin turned to face her. “Yeah?”

 

“I don’t want to come off as rude, but I heard you went home with Eren the other night,” she said casually. “Great pick, if you ask me. Even if I’m gay as hell, I know a good man when I see one.”

 

At the mention of Eren’s name, Armin coughed fumblingly into his shoulder. Now the whole goddamn world knows about it.

 

“Ha, yeah, I guess I did,” he hesitated. There was no good in denying it. “But we didn’t, you know… Uh, we just talked and stuff.”

 

Krista smirked knowingly as Armin took a sip of his coffee to avoid eye-contact with her.

 

“Uh huh. I’ll believe you for now.”

 

Armin ran a hand through his hair and smiled stiffly. “Thanks.” He suddenly remembered the sticky note that Eren had left a few days back, and another cough spluttered through him. It was probably burning a hole through his desk drawer. Maybe he should just program it in his phone to get it over with, and give the other boy a call, for God’s sake.

 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Krista grinned, catching Armin’s attention again. She put her cup down on the table and shook his shoulders jerkily. “I get it now. You two have a history! You and Eren!”

 

“We, uh. Well-”

 

Thankfully Armin was cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing up the carpeted stage in front of them. Jean made his way to the center of the small platform and sat himself down on the stool. Then, he nervously chuckled into the mic, waving at the audience.

 

“Uh, hi everyone. My name’s Jean Kirstein and I’m playing a short acoustic set this wonderful afternoon,” he expressed anxiously through the mic. Armin could see his hands slightly shaking, and the small beads of sweat that formed on Jean’s forehead from where he was seated. “Thanks for having me.”

 

With a short but enthusiastic applause from the audience, Jean began his set. He wasn’t bad, Armin supposed, but a little rough around the edges. It was quite endearing how he couldn’t hit all the notes perfectly, and how his fingers sometimes placed themselves on the wrong fret.

 

Although Armin didn’t really recognise most of the songs on Jean’s set, he was enjoying the performance. He could also breathe a sigh of relief that his earlier conversation with Krista was cut short. That was something for another time.

 

After a few songs, Jean became more comfortable on stage, even cracking a few lame jokes in between songs.

 

“So this next song will be my last one for today,” Jean announced, squeezing the neck of his guitar. He paused for awhile and for some reason, a deep red blush blossomed in his cheeks. “And I want to dedicate it to someone in the audience; someone I just met a few weeks ago when he tripped down the stairs. Armin, this one’s for you – it’s called Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift.”

 

“ _Holy shit_ , _he actually dedicated Taylor Swift_ ,” someone in the audience groaned. It sounded like Connie.

 

Armin locked eyes with Jean and laughed disbelievingly, but the expression on the other boy's face was all to serious to be joking about it. That's when Armin realised he wasn't joking at all.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you dont know the song jump then fall pls pls listen to it then imagine jean singing it what a Nerd
> 
> also thank you so much for your comments/kudos it makes me feel great!!! <3 <3


	3. 3

After the his anxious performance of the last song, Jean quickly wrapped things up and thanked the crowd, all while never taking his sharp eyes off of Armin. He was sweating bullets, constantly wiping the sleeve of his shirt against his forehead and chin. Connie and Sasha were enthusiastically (albeit not very gently) punching Armin on the shoulder, and cheering him on with noisy whoops.

 

There was a weird, but not exactly unwelcome fluttering in Armin’s belly throughout the performance of the song, and even more so after it when Jean gave him a small and hopeful little smile.

 

The audience that weren’t a part of Jean’s personal circle of friends gave the bald boy a few uncomfortable glances, but applauded wholeheartedly nonetheless. The cafe quieted down into its usual ambient noise after some time.

 

Jean quickly shuffled towards Connie and Armin, with his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

“Jean, my boy!” Connie snickered and giggle-snorted. “Didn’t know you had it in you!”

 

Armin was still bright red and kept running his hands through his blond hair. Connie’s arms were still around his shoulders, despite his attempts to pry them off.

 

“Heh, yeah,” he laughed softly. Jean rubbed the back of his neck and turned to the other boy in front of him. “So, Armin, what’d you think?”

 

The blond squeaked and finally got Connie to let go of him. He put his hands up in surrender and walked towards the counter, giving a wink to Armin. “I thought you were…. uh. Great! You were great,” he rushed out.

 

“Well, uh. What about the last song?”

 

Armin gulped. Connie silently gave both of them a wave a few feet away by the counter, and he was mouthing something Armin couldn’t make out. Probably something along the lines of, _We’ll leave you two alone for now._

 

What did he think of Jean’s last song? He didn’t really know; he never got hints that Jean saw him that way. It wasn’t a bad feeling, Armin supposed, and he actually got around to feeling flattered halfway through the song. He himself never considered Jean as something more than a good friend, though. To be honest, he hadn’t thought of Jean much during his whole mishap with Eren.

 

Eren had always said Armin was always oblivious to how much others admired and loved him. In fact, it had taken months for him to pick up on the brunet’s feelings back then. He hadn’t even realized it until Eren grabbed his shoulders and straight out told him that he had a crush on Armin. But the blond refused to take into consideration that he had just been painfully oblivious to the signs and clues that hinted at Jean’s true feelings. He was perceptive, and besides, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Eren.

 

_What bad would it do to say yes to someone on a whim, at least for once?_ Armin thought to himself. He was always the type to think things through, twice over, thrice over, even…

 

“I loved it, Jean,” Armin finally said. “I wasn’t expecting it, to be honest, but I loved it.”

 

“So I didn’t, like, creep you out?” Jean asked hopefully, toying with the hem of his flannel shirt.

 

“Not at all.”

 

Without any shame, Jean pumped his fist in the air with a triumphant cheer. It turned a few heads, but Armin couldn’t help but laugh at the other boy.

 

“Jean!” the blond gently scolded.

 

“What? Don’t laugh at me now, Arlert. I just won the heart of the cutest boy in the room. Or dare I say, the whole school,” Jean said smugly, walking towards the side of the small stage to pack away his acoustic guitar.

 

“Nerd,” Armin muttered under his breath with an amused smirk. He helped Jean unplug all the tangled wires which were scattered all across the side of the stage. A few other people still sat around the cafe, sipping at their lattes and blended drinks. Some cast a few mirth-filled glances their way.

 

Jean looked over his shoulder from where he was unzipping his guitar case. “I heard you, you know.”

 

Stretching out his back in a cat-like gesture, Armin let out a groan. He stood up and straightened his back. Walking over to Jean, he ruffled the other boy’s hair.

 

Jean stood up and heaved out a sigh.

 

“So, how would you want to go on a date with this nerd, huh?” Jean continued from where he was. This time, though, he wasn’t facing Armin with his confident and winsome grin; instead his eyes were entirely focused on the uninteresting teeth of his guitar case’s zipper. There was a timid quality in his voice which Armin couldn’t help but silently laugh at.

 

He breathed out.

 

“I’d love to,” Armin said quietly, only for the two of them to hear.

 

The other boy turned around and wrapped the blond in a tight and affectionate hug. Jean pressed his nose against the side of Armin’s neck, unable to contain his grin. “Thank you, Arm. I was hoping you would.” He hugged him tighter.

 

Armin squirmed and laughed out, “Dork.”

 

When he let go, Jean’s cheeks were still dusted over with a light pink. “You’d be surprised at how long I prepared and practiced for that goddamn song, Armin,” he smiled. “I almost didn’t even do it, because I didn’t even know if-”

 

“Shut up,” Armin laughed. “I loved it, are we clear?”

 

Jean straightened his back and mock-saluted. “Yessir! Now, let’s go get some actual lunch. I’m starving.”

 

Armin beamed and nodded. Jean picked up the case and slung it on his back, and confidently took Armin’s small and soft hand into his. They walked out of the small cafe, both of them with springs in their steps. He thought, even if this was partly his way of getting Eren out of his head, Armin silently agreed with himself that this whole thing with Jean would be something great for the both of them.

 

So Armin took the chance.

  
  


* * *

 

With the flurry of classes that got progressively more and more stressful, Armin’s desk was an absolute wreck. It was as if a typhoon hit it – stray papers and ripped notebook pages were scattered, art books were haphazardly piled in the corner, and colored pencil shavings were just everywhere.

 

Armin was just looking for one thing, though. He had a paper for Prof. Smith’s class that he needed to submit in a few hours, and he so _smartly_ stored his only copy in his flash drive (which decided to go missing at the most convenient of times).

 

“Damn it!” he gritted out. He continued to hastily skim through his disaster of a desk, regretting how he let it get to this point. He had no time to simply rewrite the thing – it was sixteen whole pages on Baroque Art. Despite going above and beyond the word count requirement, he just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to redo it.

 

He opened the small drawer on the upper-left corner of his desk. With a sigh, he sifted through it again for the nth time. Keeping his eyes peeled for the small flash drive, he determinedly searched through all the junk that somehow accumulated. There were broken pencils, ribbons, half-used erasers… then finally, a small, black piece of plastic caught his attention. Armin breathed a big sigh of relief.

 

Then something else caught his attention, in the midst of everything.

 

A small sticky note with a number scribbled on it.

 

Armin closed his eyes with a quiet exhale. It had been a few weeks since that morning, and he was even successful in forgetting about it for a bit. Jean had been a good distraction, as well as the constant pressure of passing all his classes’ requirements.

 

The blond also got around to telling Jean about it. He told him how he met Eren again at the party that night, and what they did afterwards. A few tears leaked out of Armin’s eyes when he went over the events, and he expected Jean to not be very enthusiastic about it. It was true that he wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but he didn’t blame anything on Armin, which the blond was incredibly glad for. Because of his somewhat rash nature, Jean’s annoyance towards the brunet was sparked, despite never even meeting him yet. It took some effort on Armin’s side to pacify him, and eventually, Jean acquiesced to the blond’s intention making amends with Eren.

 

Armin took the small paper into his hands and thought about it for a bit. Eren must’ve been waiting and waiting for him to give him a call, or even just a text, and Armin felt a small twinge of guilt. He hadn’t seen the brunet since.

 

_What the hell_ , Armin thought to himself. _Being an overgrown baby about it won’t solve anything._

 

In the weeks that had passed, he had calmed down about the whole ordeal. They were both adults, albeit barely, but Armin decided that he wanted to straighten things out. All of his best times with Eren were fond, and he wanted him in his life. He wanted a healthy relationship with Eren. Armin padded over to his bed where his phone sat. After quickly keying in the unlock code, he typed in Eren’s number and saved it as a contact.

 

Hopping onto his bed, Armin made himself comfortable and leaned back on the pillows. He opened up the New Message screen, and typed out a text to Eren.

 

**To: Eren Jäger**

_2:14. hey Eren. Sorry for not contacting you right away, I cant really think of a good excuse. may I call? This is Armin btw._

 

Not even a minute after sending the text, Armin’s phone began to abruptly ring. Not expecting such a sudden response, Armin gulped and answered the call.

 

“Hi?” he coughed out reluctantly. The line was silent for a few seconds, which made Armin feel incredibly awkward.

 

“Hey, Armin. I was kinda thinking you’d never call,” Eren finally said over the tinny line. It sounded as if he were somewhere quiet, save for a few voices in the background.

 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. School has been crazy, and to be honest, I kind of forgot you even left your number with me.”

 

“Oh,” Eren said intelligibly. “Well, I’m glad nonetheless.”

 

Armin didn’t know what to say, and regretted not actually thinking this over. Eren sounded too formal, too careful, and too unlike him. He wanted to say something substantial, but his mind was irritatingly blank.

 

Eren made up for the pregnant silence with a few awkward noises that sounded like he was starting to say something but constantly cutting himself off. Then he laughed quietly. “I honestly don’t know what to say, Armin.”

 

“I could say the same,” the blond returned. “Uh, so where are you right now?”

 

“I’m in the apartment. Mikasa’s here, and she’s cooking dinner because her uncle is coming over later. How about you?”

 

“In the dorm room, just sitting in bed, I guess,” Armin answered.

 

“Nice. Uh, so. I know this seems a bit sudden but how would you want to meet up? You can come over to my place, if you want. I’m free when you are,” Eren said carefully. “I want to talk to you in real life.”

 

“Well, uh,” Armin squeaked out immediately. “Where do you live?”

 

“You know the pinkish building about two blocks from the main entrance of the campus? The one with the black window sills?”

 

Closing his eyes, the blond tried to recall the pink building in the vicinity of his school. “Yeah, I think I remember it.”

 

“Great,” Eren said, and Armin could hear the genuine smile in his voice.

Armin got off the bed and walked towards the calendar hanging on the wall, right below his Madoka poster. On Wednesday he was the busiest because that day was jam packed with classes, on Thursday he had a date with Jean, and weekends were dedicated for working on projects (and catching up on anime). Friday seemed like the only free day for him; he only had two classes which were both before lunchtime.

 

“Is Friday okay for you? At around 2?” Armin inquired. The nervousness of interacting with Eren again fluttered around in his stomach once again, but he did his best to stamp it down. Besides, this was for the best. He couldn’t possibly live the rest of his college life pretending that Eren didn’t exist somewhere very close by.

 

“Sounds great. I’ll even have Mikasa cook up something for us. She’s great,” the brunet said, failing to hold back his elation of Armin agreeing to meet up with him personally. “I’m in Unit 32, by the way.”

 

The door of the dorm then clicked open, and Jean stepped in carrying two cups in his hands. The blond craned his head and waved to him happily.

 

Armin craned his head towards Jean and waved happily. “Got it. Hey, I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon, Eren,” he said. “Text me if you can.”

 

“Oh, okay. See you. Glad we could talk,” the brunet said on the other line. “Bye Armin!”

 

With one last chuckle, Armin ended the call and pocketed his phone. He hopped over to Jean, who was still struggling to take off his hoodie.

 

“Hey, Jean,” he greeted.

 

Finally stripping off his thick hoodie, Jean smiled and placed a quick kiss on Armin’s head. “Hey. I got you some coffee. Who were you on the phone with?”

 

“Thanks. Oh, it was Eren. I finally got around to giving him a call,” he explained. “Uh, we don’t have anything planned for Friday, right?”

 

There was a flash of something akin to grudge in Jean’s sharp eyes, but it passed as quickly as it came. “That’s great, I guess. And yeah, nothing. Where are you guys meeting?”

 

Armin took a sip of his coffee, which was already lukewarm, but good nonetheless. It was from his favorite coffeeshop; Jean always surprised him with little things like this, and it was a pleasant feeling. He made a mental note to make it up to him soon.

 

“The apartment he shares with his friend near campus.”

 

Jean hummed and sat down on his bed, beckoning Armin over to sit beside him. “Don’t go seducing him again, alright? You still gotta introduce me,” he teased.

 

Armin laughed and poked Jean in the underarm. He let the other boy’s arm wrap around him and snuggled up, closing his tired eyes. “Whatever you say. So, what’s for dinner?”

 

“Hm. Good question. Wanna check out the new ice cream place you saw the other day?”

 

The blond let out another muffled laugh into Jean’s shoulder. “Not exactly dinner, but sure.” With a sigh he untangled himself from the other boy and stood up. There was a silly pitiful look on Jean’s face, and he had a small pout – it was obvious he wanted to hug Armin some more.

 

“You big baby, I’ll go get ready,” Armin huffed out in mock-annoyance. He pulled out a purple skirt and a crop top from his closet (which he finally organized a few days back) and skipped over to the small bathroom to change.

 

Armin got out of a bathroom a few minutes later and spun around to show off his outfit for his and Jean’s impromptu date.

 

“Cute,” Jean said with a fond smile, tucking the blond’s hair behind his ear.

 

* * *

 

“That will be it for today’s class,” Prof. Smith said with his commanding voice. He sat back down on his comfortable looking chair and put his reading glasses back on, opening his laptop.

 

As the class slowly shuffled out of the room, the man in front cleared his throat and looked up. “Ah, Arlert. Armin was it?” he said loud enough for the younger blond to hear, after finally pinpointing the student he was scanning the crowd for. “Would you mind talking for a bit?”

 

Having just gathered all his belongings, Armin jumped very slightly at the way Prof. Smith picked him out of the crowd and called his name. Some loose sheets of paper the pile in his arms fell to the floor and he clumsily bent over to pick them up.

 

“A-ah, yes Sir!” he said as calmly as possible (obviously not very) and walked towards the desk at the front of the room.

 

“I hope you’re not busy,” the professor said with a warm smile, arranging his papers. “I’m not really comfortable talking here. Would it be alright if you follow me to my office?”

 

“Oh, alright… What’s this about, Sir?” Armin asked hesitantly while following Prof. Smith down the brightly-lit hall.

 

His professor let out a quiet laugh and motioned him to walk a bit faster. “I’ll tell you once we get there.”

 

Prof. Smith gave him a mirthful look. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing bad. If I were in your position, I would be quite ecstatic about what I’m about to tell you,” he went on. “Ah, here we are.”

 

The door to his office was ostentatious with its varnished wood carvings, and it opened with a loud creak. The older blond quickly walked in and sat behind his desk.

 

Armin took some time to take in each detail of the small office. Nothing less was expected from one of the most respected professors in the university – the room was decorated beautifully. A huge window was on one side, and it opened up to the view of the cobblestoned plaza that Armin walked down everyday to get to and from his dorm room. He never realized that Prof. Smith’s office was just right there.

 

One one corner sat a bookshelf stuffed full to the brim with thick books that looked like they had been read over multiple times. Even small trinkets were scattered around the office, souvenirs that looked like they were from countless places abroad.

 

But was caught Armin’s attention the most was the sizable oil painting leaning against the wall behind where Prof. Smith was seated. It depicted the back view of a nude and well-built man on a balcony looking over what seemed like the winding roads of Lombard Street. After more close observation, the man in the painting looked like someone Armin had seen before, somewhere, with that ink black hair, that pale skin, and that shapely backside…

 

“Every time someone comes into my office for the first time, they always notice that painting,” Prof. Smith said, observing Armin. “Take a seat.”

 

Snapping out of his state of focus, the younger blond coughed awkwardly and sat down on the cushioned chair in front of the desk. “Ah, I’m so sorry, Sir.”

 

“No need to apologize. In case you were wondering, I painted that back when I was still a student like you and living along Lombard. That’s the wonderful backside of my very wonderful partner you’re seeing,” Prof. Smith said dryly, motioning towards the perky butt of the man in the painting.

 

Lacking anything intelligent to say, Armin’s cheeks turned pink.

  
  


“Anyways,” the older blond said amusedly. “Let’s get down to business.”

 

_I feel like I’m a really bad porno_ , Armin thought to himself dejectedly, shifting in his seat. He mentally slapped himself.

 

“I’d love to,” the younger sighed with relief.

 

“You see, I’m helping co-write a book on the post-impressionism movement for one of my friend’s foundation. The people that will be helping me write it fortunately allowed me to choose one of my students to write a short section of it, more like an editorial piece,” he explained.

 

Armin’s eyes lit up. “Ah, is this like one of the books you wrote about Neoclassicism back in 2007? I loved that one,” he said excitedly. “Actually, I’ve read all your books, Sir, they’re in my bookshelf back at home.”

 

“I’m impressed, Armin, er, may I call you that?” Prof. Smith smiled. “You seem like quite the fan. And yes, the book will be something like that.”

 

“Well…” Armin blushed.

 

“Anyways, based on your grades and performance in my class so far, you’re proving to be the cream of the crop. I think it’s obvious by now that I’m interested in you contributing to this book. I’m sure it’ll open up a world of opportunities for you, especially since you’re still a first year student,” he explained thoroughly. “And when I co-write books like this and am given the opportunity to pick students to help write it, I seldom pick freshmen.”

 

Armin was rendered speechless for a good minute or two. “ _Me?_ ” he squeaked out.

 

“Yes,” Prof. Smith chuckled. “Well, I’ll give you time to think about it.”

 

Finally coming to his senses, Armin shot up in his chair. “No! I mean, no, I don’t need to think about it at all. I’ll do it,” he said excitably. “Wow.”

 

Clasping his hands together, the older nodded. “That’s great. I’m glad you agreed to so quickly.”

 

“Of course, I’d be crazy not to. I mean, it’s _you_ , Sir – I would’ve killed to co-write a book with you, and now it’s happening!” Armin mused.

 

“I’ll send you all the details via email. Don’t hesitate to ask me anything, or even the co-writers, as I’ll be CCing them in the message. I’d really appreciate it if you reply to my emails as soon as you can because of course, I’m running on a schedule here.”

 

“Oh, that’ll be no problem, Sir.”

 

After talking for a few more minutes, Armin excused himself from the office once Prof. Smith’s phone started ringing. He quickly thanked his professor once again, still unbelieving of what just happened. Armin skipped out the office in glee and out into the sunny courtyard. He was co-writing a book with his favorite professor.

 

He quickly texted his grandfather about it.

 

* * *

 

After telling Jean the news, the new information that Armin was helping co-write a book with Prof. Smith spread like wildfire within his group of friends. He received an endless flurry of texts, and even a few calls, that night congratulating him and begging him to throw a party.

 

“He’s _so_ hot,” Sasha lamented to Armin over the phone after congratulating him. “Like, really, _really_ hot.”

 

“I _know_ ,” Armin agreed. “Don’t tell Jean.”

 

Sasha laughed brightly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

But Sasha was a traitorous traitor. Jean tickled him to death that night, forcing Armin to spill whatever secret he was keeping about Prof. Smith. The brunette girl probably slyly texted Jean right after talking to Armin on the phone, he figured.

 

“It’s embarrassing!” the blond gasped as he was pinned down on the bed by his boyfriend. “Jean!”

 

Jean continued to poke Armin’s ribcage and waist, forcing more giggles out of him. “Come onnnn,” he begged. “It can’t be that bad!”

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” the blond laughed out, successfully pushing the other boy away. “You win. I have a crush on Prof. Smith. Like, not a serious one, though.”

  
  


“Holy shit,” Jean muttered. Then he burst out laughing, clutching his stomach and rolling over on the bed they were on. “Looks like I have some _serious_ competition, then, if that blond bombshell is stealing your attention away from me.”

 

“Oh, whatever,” Armin giggled. “You better watch your back, by the way. You’re not getting away by almost killing me with tickles.”

 

Before Jean could respond, the blond’s phone chimed from the side table. Armin reached out to open it.

 

**New Message**

**From: Eren Jäger**

__

_6:45. hey armin !!!! heard prof smith chose u to cowriet 4 his upcomng book. congrats :) :) we still on for fri btw??_

Armin cringed at Eren’s shortcuts and typos, but this was the way the boy had always typed, even back in middle school.

 

“Who’s that?” Jean asked, leaning his head on the blond’s shoulder.

 

“Just Eren, congratulating me.”

 

Armin typed back his reply.

 

**To: Eren Jäger**

_6:46. Thanks so much :) and yeah, see you then._

 

Jean hummed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “When are you guys meeting up again?”

 

“On Friday.”

 

“If he does any funny business with you, I swear-”

 

Armin tapped the other boy on the head to gently chastise him. “He won’t. Believe me. Besides, we’re just making up for lost time, as friends.”

 

Jean let out a sigh, then pecked the blond on the lips. “Alright, alright. You’re way smarter than I am, so I’ll trust you.”

 

“Thank you, Jean.”

  
  


* * *

 

Armin had one of his girl days on Friday.

 

It took her a good hour and a half to get ready that morning, compared to her usual thirty minutes. She actually brushed her hair, instead of sleepily combing her fingers through the knots. Thankful for the nights she spent practicing his eyeliner back in high school, Armin was able to wing the tips at a record time (usually it took her way longer to do it, smudging it off when she made a mistake).

 

She slipped on a plain teal t-shirt and floral leggings, along with her favorite pair of black ballet flats. Armin figured if she would huff it all the way to Eren’s place, she’d have to dress comfortably.

 

When she was finally ready for the day, Jean was still very much asleep on the bed, nuzzled into the pillows and arm thrown over the space Armin occupied the night before. She gave her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek, silently hoping he’d have a good day.

 

“Mhm…” Jean mumbled. “Arm?”

 

“I’m going out now,” the blonde replied quietly.

 

“...Look so… pretty,” the half-asleep boy fumbled out, reaching out to Armin, who was already halfway out the door.

 

With a small smile, Armin slipped out of the dorm room.

 

Her two classes that morning went by without ceremony. She had GE Biology, which thankfully she found interesting, unlike the other half-asleep students in the auditorium. After that, Armin had a short thirty minute break until her next class, which was another GE.

 

At around one in the afternoon, she was done with all her classes for the day. Armin found a vacant bench in the courtyard and decided to give Eren a text that she was on her way to his apartment. Checking Google Maps, she also searched for any cafes she could stop by to pick up a few pastries to give to Eren and his friend as a small token of appreciation for being invited over.

 

Call her old fashioned, but it was something Armin just got used to whenever her grandfather went over to other people’s houses. Through osmosis, it was just a habit she picked up along the way.

 

After making a quick stop by a donut place near where she was headed to, she checked Google Maps again to confirm the directions to the pink building where Eren lived. It was around two blocks down, then a left turn.

 

 

Armin walked down the streets with the warm bag of donuts in his hand. The San Francisco air was cool and the sun shined brightly, but not unpleasantly so. What she loved so much about the new city was that there was always something interesting going on, and more often than not, just people-watching would serve as a very good form of entertainment. She and Jean often sat at park benches just outside campus when both of them were free, just silently watching all sorts of people walk by, and nudging each other when a particularly weird or funny looking one passed. One time, Armin saw a naked guy walk down the street.

  
  


Before she knew it, Armin got to Eren’s apartment building. The small lobby was dimly lit but charming, and after asking the receptionist which way to go to Unit 32, she was on her way up.

 

* * *

 

_Knock._

_Knock, knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock, knock, knock._

Armin sighed, deciding to give Eren a call, telling him that she was outside already.

 

But just as she was about to pull out her phone, the door swung open, not very slowly, and it revealed the tan brunet boy in nothing but an absurdly small t-shirt and boxer shorts.

 

“Uh,” Armin offered.

 

“Armin! I’m so sorry! I was taking a bath and I ran out of soap so I had to improvise by using all my shampoo as body wash and, yeah. Come in.”

 

“I have donuts,” the blond said, walking into Eren’s apartment.

 

“Awesome,” the other boy said. “I’ll just put on some pants.”

 

Armin sat herself down on the sunken couch and looked around the apartment. It was minimally yet tastefully decorated, and it looked lived in. On the wall near him hung different pictures; a few of Eren and his mother and father, an Asian looking girl with her arm around him, and a few more of the girl and what Armin assumed to be her family of some sorts (although they looked vastly different from how she did). One picture that caught Armin's attention, though, was one she recognized right away. It was a photo of her and Eren back in their freshman year of high school, and it was snapped by one of their mutual friends back then. In the picture, they were sitting on a dock, with both their feet in the shallow water of the lake. Eren had his arm around Armin's slender shoulders and it looked like they were both laughing at something secret, something only the two of them shared.

 

Armin looked away from the wall with the framed pictures and decided to focus her attention elsewhere.

 

The smell of food cooking brought her attention to the small kitchen. The countertops were messy, but whatever was on the stovetop smelled heavenly. Armin remembered that Eren's roommate would be cooking them a late lunch.

 

"Sorry about that," the brunet’s voice suddenly said, and the blond whipped her head around. Eren was walking down the short hallway with a towel was wrapped around his head.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Eren sat down on the comfy looking chair next to the couch. “So. You look nice,” he said with a genuine smile. “Girl day?”

 

Looking down at her outfit, Armin nodded shyly. She had started alternating between being a girl and boy back in high school, but refrained from doing it when going to school. She had tried it once, but it earned her many weird looks, and some teachers even had the gall to send her home for “dressing inappropriately”.  It became something that never happened again, and Armin only wore skirts and makeup when her girl days happened to take place when they didn’t have school. The only one who had known about the true nature of it was Eren and his grandfather.

 

Armin looked back up, bringing herself back to the current situation. “So, where’s your roommate?”

 

“Oh, Mikasa. She just picked up something from the 7/11 downstairs.” The door clicked open, and Eren chuckled. “Speak of the devil.”

 

At the door stood a tall and slender girl, the one Armin saw in the pictures. She had a neutral expression on her pretty face.

 

“Hi,” she said. “Eren, could you get this for me?” Mikasa held out the plastic bag as she stripped off her coat and scarf.

 

Standing up, the brunet went over to the girl and got the bag from her. “Armin, this is Mikasa Ackerman. Mikasa, this is Armin Arlert, the one I told you about,” he introduced.

 

Armin’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ackerman? Isn’t that-”

 

“Yeah, I’m related to Levi. He’s my uncle,” she interrupted sharply, making her way to the kitchen.

 

“Oh, okay,” the blond said.

 

He heard Eren let out an amused laugh. “Don’t be scared of her, Armin. She means no harm.”

 

“I can hear you idiots,” Mikasa scoffed half-heartedly.

 

Eren sat back down on the chair he was previously on with a fond smile. “Let’s talk a bit later when she’s out of our hair,” he said quietly, only for the two of them to hear.

 

“I can _still_ hear you,” the girl in the kitchen sighed, but then her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Wait. Eren, I thought Armin was a guy?”

 

“Uh. Armin’s like Nanaba.”

 

“I see,” Mikasa noted, looking towards Armin. She noticed that the girl had the same clear and sharp gray eyes as Prof. Ackerman. “Sorry about that. Pronouns?”

 

“Well, today it’s she and her,” the blond confirmed with a friendly smile.

 

* * *

 

Lunch went by normally. The stew Mikasa made was delicious, and Armin asked for seconds and thirds, eve. She had to admit he was slightly jealous of Eren if this was the kind of food he ate on a daily basis. The black haired girl went on about her morning, how one of her co-interns almost spilled coffee on her newly bought blazer. Armin learned that Mikasa went to another university nearby and was taking a legal management course, and worked as a personal trainer in the evening thrice a week. She did modeling in her free time, which wasn’t abundant these days anymore.

 

The way Eren and Mikasa bickered was amusing to watch – it was as if they were siblings.

 

After eating the donuts Armin brought over (which were surprisingly good even after losing their warmth), the girl was off to attend her kickboxing class at the gym.

_What a busy girl._

 

“Use protection!” she announced to the two before she closed the door behind her.

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Eren announced back.

 

Armin laughed, and felt her phone vibrate in her hand.

 

**New Message**

**From: Nerd <3 (JK)**

_3:12. You alright bab?_

_3:13. Text me if u need atythin_

_3:13. **anything_

She quickly texted back a reply.

 

**To: Nerd <3 (JK)**

_3:14. Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me :)_

  
  


“So,” Eren said. “How have you been?”

 

“Fine, I guess. School’s stressful.”

 

“I’m glad I’m out of that rut. My parents hated that I didn’t want to go to college, but what can they do, right? I could never do it,” the brunet mused. “But I know whatever you’re thrown into, you’ll probably do well.”

 

A slight blush found its way to Armin’s face. “I don’t know about that.”

 

“Quit being bashful,” the brunet chuckled. “So, tell me about how you got the offer to write in the big shot’s book.”

 

“Oh, Prof. Smith? Well, he called me into his office after class-”

 

Eren smirked. “Sounds like a bad porno.”

 

“That’s _exactly_ what I thought. So we sat in his office and he didn’t beat around the bush at all. The book’s about the post-impressionism movement,” Armin said excitedly. “He said he doesn’t usually pick freshmen to write a piece in his books, but this time he actually did.”

 

“Things I know nothing about, but sounds awesome nonetheless. I’m happy for you,” the brunet said. He cautiously patted Armin’s knee, but pulled his hand back quickly.

 

A silence washed over them for a few long seconds, with the blond unable to react to the ridiculously awkward knee pat she just received, and the brunet mentally slapping himself for doing something so stupid.

 

The first one to break was Armin, bursting into a fit of giggles. Eren eventually laughed along, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly.

 

The two talked more about their current lives in general. The brunet was quickly gaining recognition in the modeling scene, especially in California. The week before, he had a shoot for a local band’s promotional tour poster, and another shoot with a west coast based fashion designer that was also up and coming.

 

And apparently, his followers on Instagram were also on the rise.

 

After talking for quite a bit, the brunet got up to make both of them coffee. The sun was getting lower outside.

 

“This is nice,” Eren remarked, pouring the milk. “I’m happy you could come over.”

 

Armin smiled. “Me too. After, you know, what happened the other night I kinda had a big freakout over it. I was afraid I wouldn’t get any closure from it, honestly. At least we’re on the same page.”

 

Eren handed the blonde her coffee – four sugars, and only a drop of milk. “Same page... I hope so,” he said, mostly to himself.

 

“What was that?”

 

The brunet suddenly put his mug down on the coffee table, creating a loud noise in the otherwise quiet apartment.

 

“I didn’t mean to talk about this right now,” Eren gritted out. “But I have fantasies.”

 

“Wait, wh-what? Fantasies?” Armin laughed out disbelievingly.

 

“ _Shit_ , Armin. About us. Together. Is that wrong?”

 

She shook her head slowly. Armin breathed in and out, squeezing the warm mug in his hands. This was one of those moments she had dreamed of finally happening in Eren’s absence. In Armin’s dreams, the brunet would somehow find a way back into his life and confess his feelings once again. High school Armin would’ve been jumping for joy right about now. But now, the blonde just felt his stomach sink, almost wishing Eren didn’t mean what he just said. _Almost_.

 

“I want to be with you,” Eren continued. Then he looked up, with those expressive wide eyes. “I decided that that’s what I want, and I don’t want to pretend that my feelings for you have just vanished.”

 

“Eren,” the blonde said carefully. “Look, uh. I’m seeing someone.” She was impressed at how calmly she was able to say is.

 

“But you didn’t say you were when I went back to your room weeks ago! We’re not on the same fucking page!”

 

Armin sighed out desperately. “I wasn’t _yet_. Jean and I only started recently!”

 

“Jean? Isn’t that your roommate?”

 

“It is. Eren, please, I thought you were fine with us not pursuing anything!”

 

The brunet ran his hand through his hair several times. “I thought I was. At first I was. But every time I see you, or hear about you, I get so excited and jittery and I don’t think that’s how just _friends_ feel, Armin,” he rambled. “I was under the assumption that I would’ve still had the chance to get that part of you back. I was pretty fucking confident about it.”

 

The blonde clutched her phone, debating whether or not she should text Jean to come pick her up. But that would just make her boyfriend freak out and blow thing way out of proportion. She could handle it.

 

“I’m not going to leave Jean,” Armin rasped. “A-as much as I wished night in and night out that you’d be the first one to give me a call, no matter how guilty that made me feel, I’m not ditching him.”

 

“I’m not asking you to, Armin,” the other boy breathed. It was obvious he was trying hard to contain his emotions. “I may be an asshole, but not that much.”

 

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

“I’d be stupid if I didn’t consider you rejecting me,” Eren laughed out sadly. “I mean, the chance of you agreeing to be together again was slim to none to begin with.”

 

Armin closed her eyes and rubbed her temples tiredly. “I would’ve said yes-”

 

“If you didn’t have a boyfriend. I get it.”

 

The apartment fell silent. A few cars honked their horns outside, along with an array of dogs barking, but everything sounded oddly muffled and far away. Armin turned her head to look at the wall of framed pictures. The photo of her and Eren by the docks looking at each other with the fondest of expressions taunted her, even in the growing dimness of the room.

 

“Armin. I’ll back off. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten what I told you before. You’re my best friend, no matter what kind of bullshit we’ve gone through, or whatever weird situation we’re in right now. I won’t threaten your relationship, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Eren said quietly but strongly.  “I wouldn’t dream of causing you any harm, especially after everything.”

 

The blonde nodded slightly, then the door clicked open.

 

“Why the hell is it so dark in here?” It was Mikasa. The lights flicked on.

 

“I-I’ll get going. I don’t want to be walking back home at night,” Armin said suddenly, standing up from where she was sitting on the couch. She patted down her leggings and put on the most genuine smile she could at the moment. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

 

Mikasa surveyed the situation in front of her with narrowed eyes. She caught onto the forced and awkward silence between the two, and turned to Armin.

 

“You need someone to accompany you?” she asked the blonde. “Ah, scratch that. I’m coming with you, no buts. Eren, say bye.”

 

Eren looked up from where he was dejectedly seated. “Bye, Armin. I’ll text you,” he said quietly. “Stay safe.”

 

Armin nodded and waved weakly, and attempted a smile.

 

Without anything more, she and Mikasa were out the door.

 

* * *

 

They decided to take the bus. It was too chilly to be walking outside, and besides, Armin had forgotten to bring a jacket with her. At least the bus was semi-empty, aside from the elderly woman at the back and a mother with her baby.

 

Mikasa sat next to her, in her sweatpants and tanktop. Not even a second after taking a seat, she turned to Armin.

 

“What did he say to you?” she asked sharply.

 

“U-uh, he didn’t say anything, don’t worry about it-”

 

She interrupted Armin with a sigh. “I know that kid inside out. And I know – I’m sure you do, too – that he doesn’t really have the best timing or tact. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, but what did he do?”

 

Armin bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. “He said he still had feelings for me,” she mumbled out. “But I have a boyfriend, and with our history…”

 

Mikasa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Goddamn it, Eren,” she said under her breath. “He told me all about it. You don’t need to explain everything.”

 

“I’d be bluffing if I said I don’t think of him like that every now and then. But I feel so damn guilty. I loved him,” Armin muttered. She didn’t know why she was spilling her whole heart to a girl who she had just met the same day, and Eren’s close friend, too, at that. “And I think he just has really, _really_ bad timing.” The blonde laughed out humorlessly.

 

“Does your boyfriend know?” Mikasa asked gently.

 

“He knows about Eren, and that he and I were together back in high school. But what he doesn’t know is the extent of my feelings for him right now. I’m the one who told him Eren and I were just going to be friends, _I’m_ the one who told him not to worry.”

 

Mikasa’s soft hand found its way to Armin’s back, and she rubbed small circles on it. The bus was quiet, and the blonde hoped she didn’t catch the attention of the other passengers.

 

“Shh,” Mikasa whispered. “You’ll be fine. You seem like you’re tougher than you look. I know I just met you today but from what Eren has told me these past years, you’re as sturdy as they come.”

 

“He talks about me?” Armin asked.

 

“ _Oh_ yeah. You think he doesn’t when there’s a picture of you and him hanging in the living room?”

 

“Well, on second thought, that doesn’t really help.”

 

“Sorry,” the black haired girl apologized with a small chuckle. “But you get my point I hope. If I were you, I’d talk to your boyfriend. You’re not completely in the wrong for still… feeling things for Eren because if he weren’t like the annoying little brother I never had, I would be head over heels for him, too. Just get things straight with your boyfriend first. Then you can decide how you’ll talk to Eren, because God knows you’ll have to do that eventually.”

 

Armin smiled and faced Mikasa. “Thank you so much. Don’t tell Eren anything, though.”

 

“I won’t. Here. I’ll give you my number in case you need anything.”

 

They exchanged phones and keyed in each others’ contact details. A few minutes later, they finally stopped in front of Armin’s hall where her dorm room was. The blonde got off and waved goodbye to her new friend as the bus drove away.

 

She had a lot to talk about with Jean.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh eren....
> 
> oh yeah i hope armin's girl pronouns weren't too confusing !


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i am trash. i promise i haven't abandoned this, it's just that life has been kicking my ass and i've been in a rut for the past months. anyways, here it is and i swear on me mums life that i will update more often now. i'm on summer break now so yeah!! hope u guys enjoy. sorry again.

Levi groaned as he stretched his strong arms over his head. The small house he shared with Erwin was dim and quiet, save for the relaxing purr of their cat, who was comfortably dozing on the couch.

 

The office chair squeaked as he leaned back. It was starting to get chilly out, and winter had to be Levi’s least favorite season. A few months back, he had demanded to get a new heater, because being wrapped around a ridiculous number of blankets and quilts was, well, ridiculous.

 

The bright light from his laptop screen shone blindingly on Levi’s pale face. It was goddamn four in the morning, but he was having another bout of insomnia. Erwin was in Seattle for the weekend, meeting with God knows who for the book he was in the process of writing. Being stuck with the cat for a few days was absolutely blissful, Levi could actually cook food he liked, instead of catering to the blond’s insistent pickiness. He missed Erwin, though.

 

Levi let out an exasperated sigh as he scrolled through all his unread emails. They were mostly from his whiny students begging him to extend the deadline of the plate. He was this close to assigning them as spam contacts. One email caught his eye though – it was from one of his regular models for his freshman sketching class. He quickly clicked on it, silently hoping that it wasn’t anything bad. His models usually never emailed him after he struck the fear into them to not pester him online for fun.

 

It was just what Levi was dreading. Apparently, according to the email, the model had come down with a really bad flu and was advised to stay in bed for a week or two. He couldn’t make it to the scheduled meeting a week from then, and apologized profusely for it.

 

The man clicked his tongue. His freshman class was scheduled to practice sketching real-life models the next week, and totally cancelling it was not one of his options. His whole class was looking forward to it. He racked his brains for a replacement for the sick model; if he were totally desperate he would make Erwin a model for he cared. _Those brats would probably enjoy perving on my partner_ , Levi thought exasperatingly.

 

He picked up his phone and looked through his contacts, hastily looking for someone who would be willing to pose naked in front of a bunch of smartass art students. Then a name came into mind, and he mentally slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier.

 

Levi searched for a particular Eren Jäger’s number in his contact list and pressed Call. He didn’t give a flying fuck that it was in the middle of the night; the boy was probably still up partying, or whatever they did these days. The phone rang and rang and rang, offering Levi no sense of comfort. Just as he was about to angrily hang up, a groggy voice picked up the phone.

 

“‘Lo?”

 

“Eren. It’s Levi,” the man said gruffly, leaning back in his squeaky chair again. He needed to go out and buy a new one before Erwin came back and insisted that this one was still fine. That sentimental old man.

 

“What the fuck do you want at four AM,” Eren groaned, but it was too much of an effort to get angry.

 

“Respect your superior. You still technically work under me. Anyways, are you free next Monday? To model for the freshmen? Just ask Mikasa for my schedule to find out what time.”

 

Eren scoffed on the other line. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just let me sleep.”

 

“I’m not fucking around. I’m expecting you to be there.”

 

“Tell Mikasa to put in on my schedule, or whatever. Bye,” the brunet groggily said. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep, sighing into his soft, soft pillow.

 

When the line went dead, Levi clicked his tongue. Eren was usually pretty reliable, and was earnest to do a good job. He trusted that the boy would show up at the class.

 

* * *

 

Jean had spent the entire week and a half worrying about Armin. His boyfriend seemed distant, almost unwilling to look at him, at times. Even when he offered him his favorite strawberry lemonade, or offered to forget about schoolwork and marathon one of the ongoing animes of that season, Armin coyly shook his head and gripped his colored pencils tighter.

 

No, Jean being worried was an understatement.

 

He tried to trace it back, but his memory wasn’t his strongest suit. Jean vaguely remembers Armin’s attitude worsening around the time he came back from Eren’s. Even if he insisted the blond tell him if his old friend had done or said anything harmful, Jean still made himself believe it had nothing to do with Eren. He wanted to trust Armin, and letting him have his own space would most probably help…

 

Armin, on the other hand, didn’t know how to tell Jean about his repressed feelings for his ex-boyfriend. He didn’t know how the subject would simply come up in their conversations. He didn’t know how Jean would react. The blond couldn’t assume his boyfriend would take it in stride (at least at first), because if he were in Jean’s position, he knew that it’d come as a very unpleasant surprise. But giving him the benefit of the doubt was much more comforting in Armin’s mind, although probably not the wisest thing to do. Jean was understanding, empathetic. Open-minded. He was carefree and simple-minded; he seldom complicated things that didn’t need overcomplicating. Armin was thankful for that, to the moon and back, because it wasn’t a hidden fact that the blond was not simple-minded at all. He thought things over twice, thrice, and an infinite number of times more before even coming to a conclusion. Jean was good for him, and he liked to think that they were good for each other.

 

Despite Armin’s moodiness and overall distance, his boyfriend never once dropped the ball. It was a week and a half of agony, because the words were constantly in the blond’s throat, but it was always getting pushed down by anxiety. There had to be other ways of telling Jean, though a letter, a text, maybe, but Armin figured that that would be shitty.

 

And so the two lived in pseudo-harmony, dancing around each other, ignoring how tense the situation was.

 

* * *

 

The next Monday, Armin cut it really close.

 

His alarm had chimed two times, but he still remained curled up in bed like a sad puppy. His first class was incidentally with Professor Ackerman, and usually, he would be up an extra hour early to prepare for it. He actually did wake up early for it, but he lacked the motivation to roll over and get up. Instead, he lied in bed, staring at the stains on the ceiling and occasionally playing some mindless games on his phone, all while blindingly ignoring the time. He really didn’t want to go to class, and he didn’t want to see Prof. Ackerman’s scrunched up face, chastising him for being late.

 

Jean was snoozing next to him. In spite of Armin’s constant rolling around, he still was unbothered by it and remained sound asleep. That changed when the third alarm from Armin’s phone chimed, though.

 

The sleeping boy let out a groan and stretched his long arms over his bedhead. Then he slowly blinked his eyes open, but something felt off. There was still a warm and soft body next to him, but it was a Monday…

 

Jean jolted up as he realized that Armin was late, so very, very late for his first class. Yes, he memorized his boyfriend’s schedule because the blond constantly got carried away by getting easily distracted, and for that his punctuality suffered. Jean silently took over the duty of keeping his boyfriend aware of his schedule, and reminding him to get the things he needed to do done.

 

“Arm!” Jean hissed. “You’re late!”

 

The small beeping sounds from Armin’s game just continued.

 

“Armin, please. You have to get up.”

 

“Don’t want to,” Armin sighed. Jean sighed, too. The blond had the ability to act like such a big baby at times.

 

“I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

 

The soft tapping of the blond’s fingers grew more incessant. “I’m not in the mood, Jean. I’m not in the mood for anything.”

 

Jean heaved a heavy sigh and rolled out of bed. He scratched the back of his head in annoyance and half-heartedly tossed his pillow to Armin. “I know you’re going to end up blaming me for not pushing you enough to go to class in due time. Now, come on. I’ll even walk you to class.”

 

“Fine,” the blond said begrudgingly, slowly getting out of bed and patting down his mussed up hair. “Seems like I only have enough time to put on a shirt that doesn’t look like a rag.”

 

“Go ahead, but don’t be too heavy on your feet,” Jean said with a click of his tongue. He himself hopped out of his loose pyjama bottoms and slipped on the khakis he’d been wearing for the past week. Nobody seemed to notice that he only had around two pairs of decent pants, and he simply couldn’t bring himself to care enough.

 

Their dorm room was stuffy and extremely messy, thanks to Armin’s organization skills, or lack thereof. Jean preferred finishing his requirements and schoolwork outside of the cramped dorm. The other bed, which stayed unoccupied and perfectly neat, sat on one side of the room. Ever since they got together, the second bed’s covers stayed straight and untouched. Jean sat himself down on it, patiently waiting for his boyfriend to come out of the bathroom.

 

He was growing progressively more and more worried. It simply wasn’t like him to deliberately want to ditch class...

 

The lock of the bathroom clicked open, and a tired-looking Armin emerged. He gave Jean an exhausted look and slung his satchel bag over his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

“What even is your problem?” Jean asked sharply as they ran-walked across campus. Armin had his earphones plugged deep in his ears and kept clicking his tongue. It was a sunny day, and the air was relaxingly cool. It would’ve been a nice day to spend their time in a actual good mood, it that seemed not to be the case, especially for the both of them.

 

The blond’s lips stretched into a hard line. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

 

The two slowed down their pace as they approached the building where Armin’s sketching class was. Unlike on regular days where students were lined up in a single file (because of Prof. Ackerman’s insistence for their cooperation and organization), there was nobody lined up outside. It was unnaturally peaceful when the rowdy bunch wasn’t there.

 

Armin yanked the earbuds out of his ears and wound them up around his phone. “So. Thanks for walking me here, I guess.”

 

Through his annoyance, Jean couldn’t help but feel waves of affection for the blond. He had to admit, Armin was very cute when he was in his annoyed and razzled state. “Welcome. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said with a small smile, running his rough hand through his boyfriend’s fluffy hair.

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

With that, Armin walked briskly down the hall to get to the usual room where Prof. Ackerman held his class. A few familiar faces greeted him, all with uniquely colored hair. The blond briefly considered going to the salon after his classes that day, but quickly decided against it. He was proud of his hair as it was.

 

When he got to the room, it seemed as the small window on the door was covered up. Despite the peculiar occurrence, Armin gripped the handle of the door nervously. He was afraid that Prof. Ackerman would chastise him in front of the class. Other professors didn’t really care if one of their students were late, or didn’t come in at all. That was their own lookout. However, this one in particular couldn’t stand it when his students weren’t punctual. He spelled it out at the start of the year, and the words still rang in Armin’s head as he instantly regretted getting up so late. He was only around ten minutes late, but he was still anxious. With a gulp, he pushed open the door.

 

At first, when he walked into the spacey room, nobody noticed him; they were all quietly sketching on their oversized sketchpads. Prof. Ackerman was pacing around the room, quietly surveying his students, but his attention was caught when the door squeaked open. His sharp eyes flitted towards the blond and his eyebrows creased even further.

 

“Get to it, Arlert. I hope this is the last time you’re ever late, especially for someone like you,” the professor grumbled. “Today, you’re supposed to sketch the model in three different poses in your own style. He changes his pose every fifteen minutes.”

 

 _He seemed to be in a good mood today_ , Armin thought to himself. He’s seen his professor scold other tardy students in the past, and it wasn’t pretty. That’s when he saw a very clandestine hickey peek out from under Prof. Ackerman’s collar.

 

The blond coughed awkwardly and directed his line of sight to the girl seated beside him. “Uh, model?”

 

Prof. Ackerman clicked his tongue. “Forgot already? I brought in a model today. I told you about this when I handed out this week’s schedule.”

 

Armin tucked his hair behind his ears, ashamed of being so out of it. “Sorry, Sir. I’ll get to it now.”

 

With a short exhale, the professor turned and gave his attention to another student who was struggling to get the legs of the model right. The model…

 

The blond looked up and at the male at the front of the room, who was sitting stark naked on a wooden stool. He had to do a double take, though, because the model was a very familiar-looking brunet - the same one he had been kind of, maybe, purposely avoiding.

 

“Eren?!” Armin squeaked out, gaining the attention of some of the other students.

 

Eren was looking straight at the blond, but as he heard his name, he immediately shifted in his chair and stood up, abruptly changing his pose. Although he wasn’t really paying attention to all the other people in the room, Armin heard many of them groan in annoyance of their model suddenly moving. The brunet’s eyes widened and his mouth flapped open and close, like a fish out of water.

 

“Armin, I-”

 

“Sit the fuck back down, Mr. Jäger. Act professional,” Prof. Ackerman cut through, while eyeing the small blond. “And you, Mr. Arlert, please start because it won’t be my fault if you don’t complete today’s assignment.”

 

With burning cheeks and a slightly sweaty brow, Armin sat back down on the stool, as did Eren with his previous pose. He knew he shouldn’t had come to class today, he knew - this probably had to be the worst possible way to face Eren again. Although the brunet eased into his former pose, it was obvious that his back was tenser, and he had to keep covertly wipe the sweat on his hands.

 

The blond unzipped his pencil case and brought out all the materials he’d be needing. Starting out with a light pencil, he sketched the rough shape and pose of Eren’s lean and tanned body. From a totally unbiased and artistic point of view (at least that’s how Armin coined it in his head), the brunet model sitting at the front of the room was stunning, and a perfect subject for art. It was highly awkward, although it shouldn’t be, with the fact that Eren’s genitals were hanging out in the open like that; freely, proudly, even…

 

Armin sat back in his chair and took a look at the rough sketch to see if everything was proportional. He looked back up at Eren, who was still looking at him, failing at being inconspicuous with his wide eyes constantly flitting towards Armin. His stare was sharp, and intense - Armin felt that if he didn’t look elsewhere right away he’d be burnt. There was a silent apology and gentle infatuation in the brunet’s vivid eyes as he looked over at the blond (who was trying his best to concentrate).

 

He picked up his heavier pencils and began to sketch in more detailed parts of Eren’s body, like the gradual slope of his shoulders and the long length of his neck. Armin gripped his pencils hard, willing himself not to get hard underneath his pants. It was a struggle, and with Prof. Ackerman making rounds around the room, it would already be too humiliating for his professor to catch a glimpse of his hypothetical erection. As Armin’s dark pencil pressed against the paper in long, practiced lines, Eren’s graceful figure began to take shape. Grabbing his lighter pencils, he added more details, the tiny and almost unnoticeable lines along the model’s neck, down to the strands of mouse brown hair that shone in the light.

 

As the blond looked back up again to scrutinize Eren’s pose again, their eyes caught. The brunet hadn’t stopped looking at him, embarrassedly so. He was sure that the other students took notice of this, and undoubtedly Prof. Ackerman, too. But he kept looking into the brunet’s eyes, and they had their own silent conversation. As Armin expected, on Eren’s part it was full of “sorry”s and “I’ll keep my distance”s. The blond simply had nothing useful to say, so he just nodded and went back to sketching, darkening the shadows. He was undoubtedly, irrevocably still very much infatuated with Eren; and he knew it was painfully obvious in the way he traced the lines on the paper. The way his hair seemed to glow, the way he sat on the chair, stark naked but still possessing a guarded expression, and the unblemished skin that Armin just wanted to run his fingers over…

 

“Try emphasizing the jawline more,” a baritone voice said out of nowhere, interrupting his thoughts. Prof. Ackerman was standing right beside him, small head tilted, looking at Armin’s sketchpad.  To the blond’s surprise, his eyes were somewhat softened, uncharacteristically so, not in the perspective of a teacher, but in silent admiration for an actual piece of art. The blond nodded silently and went back to work, hoping that the weird look on his professor’s face was a good sign.

 

He darkened the outline of Eren’s jaw, slightly smudging the line. “Is this better, Sir?”

 

“Yes,” Prof. Ackerman replied after a beat. “There’s something in the way you draw your lines,” he added after a few seconds with a smirk.

 

Armin opened his mouth unintelligibly. “Uh.”

 

“Get back to it.”

 

* * *

 

The class ended quietly, and Armin finished the other two required sketches with ease. On his way to submitting his work, other students commented on the sketches, praising its detail and shading. The blond shyly thanked them, wondering if they deducted his repressed feelings for the model. Upon turning in his sketchbook, Prof. Ackerman narrowed his eyes at Armin. It was obvious that the older man was sharply observant and could pick up on little nuances in the ex-couple’s facial expressions when their eyes met.

 

Eren was dressing up in the back room. Armin could hear him struggling to slip back into his skinny jeans, and he swore he also heard some stuff falling in there. Prof. Ackerman was flipping through his sketchbook at his immaculate desk, humming quietly.

 

“You’ve been improving,” the professor stated, not taking his eyes off the paper.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Especially with today’s assignment.”

 

“Well, I-”

 

“You like him, don’t you?” Prof. Ackerman asked bluntly, casually.

 

Armin spluttered awkwardly. Why did his professor want the low down on his love life? Was it wise to tell the truth? He decided to just go with it - it wasn’t like he had anything to lose, anyways. “Frankly, Sir, I think you know the answer to that already,” the blond said.

 

The older let out a low, amused chuckle and closed the sketchbook. “It’s obvious in the way you draw him, kid. Trust me.”

 

The blond quickly grabbed his sketchbook and tucked it under his arm. Eren was still dressing up, still causing a ruckus in the back room. “Well, I’ll just take that as a compliment. Thank you, Sir.”

 

Prof. Ackerman let out a quiet hum in return, dismissing Armin nonchalantly. The blond left the room briskly, and closed the door behind him.

 

He just drew Eren nude. Three times. It shouldn’t have been a big deal to him; the human body was beautiful and fascinating, no matter who it belonged to. There was no real reason to be flustered about it, about Eren, because Armin was here to attend his classes in peace, without the distraction of his ex-boyfriend who, thanks to fate, seemed to stick to him wherever he went. In the usual stillness of Prof. Ackerman’s class, something disrupted that, and Armin just wished he could possibly avoid Eren successfully. Of course, the best way to deal with the situation would probably have something to do with him just stop caring. Stop being affected. Get a distraction, maybe, or focus on his relationship with Jean more. God knows that needed tending to sooner or later.

 

As the blond slowly walked out of the room out into the hallway, he overheard Prof. Ackerman and Eren exchanging a few words with each other. Armin retraced his steps, and reluctantly pressed his ear against the door. He knew he was doing the exact opposite of being indifferent towards Eren by practically eavesdropping on a conversation that probably won’t concern him in any way, but whatever. He promised himself that this would be the actual last time he’d devote his precious time to the brunet.

 

“Levi,” he heard Eren whine through the thick material of the door. “Don’t ignore me.”

 

“I’m checking sketchpads.” Armin could somewhat hear his professor irritably swapping Eren’s hands away from the pad. “If you don’t stop, I swear on my ass-”

 

“Can I see Armin’s?” Eren stubbornly asked, still making grabby-hands at Levi.

 

Prof. Ackerman stopped checking, looked up at the rambunctious brunet and smirked. “No.”

 

“Come on, quit being such a killjoy.”

 

“Why do you even want to see it?” the older man asked tauntingly. “What’s he to you?”

 

“Jesus, I just want to see his work, Levi.”

 

Armin tried to look through the crack of the door, and could only slightly see Eren kneeling on the chair in front of Prof. Ackerman’s desk, overlooking the sketchpad that was currently spread open. The brunet was fully dressed now, in an old looking gray tank top and basketball shorts.

 

“If I show it to you, will you fuck off?” Prof. Ackerman snapped. The brunet in front of his enthusiastically nodded. “Look for his in the pile over there.”

 

Eren practically leaped off the chair, immediately diving into the pile of sketchpads at the side of the professor’s desk. Armin watched him quickly sift through them with a slight blush on his face. There were many things he couldn’t process at the moment - why did Eren have to take so much interest in his work? And why did he have to be so stupidly enthusiastic about the whole thing? He knew that the brunet was naturally easily excitable and difficult to bring down, but… Armin was enamoured. He tried to flush the gross feeling out of himself.

  


Prof. Ackerman cleared his throat and chuckled softly when Eren found the sketchpad. “That kid. Armin. He’s fucking in love with you.”

 

The blond let out a high squeak from outside the room, and almost hit his head against the door in both shock and embarrassment to what his professor just said.

 

Instead of reacting loudly like Armin thought he would, the brunet, who was knelt down on the floor flipping through the pad in search of today’s work, simply let out a quiet sigh. It was hardly audible, but then again, the blond’s red ear was stuck to the door.

 

“What’s with the sudden quietness?” the professor prompted, observing the boy.

 

“He’s my ex,” the boy admitted softly, finally having found the page that depicted him, nude and posing. Eren traced his calloused fingers against the paper, admiring the graceful pencil strokes. “Armin’s good. It actually looks like me.”

 

"He's getting there. Say, Eren. Better art is created with passion and intense emotion, would you say?" the older asked, somewhat rhetorically. From what Armin could see through the small crack, there was an amused look on his pale face (or as amused as it could get). The brunet continued to admire his work, with a placid and soft look on his face.

 

Eren didn't look up from the pad. "Yeah, of course."

 

The professor stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Then I can therefore conclude that that blond kid is in 100 percent, without a doubt head over heels with you, you brat. Ex or not. You can see it clear as day just by looking at what he drew just awhile ago. Take my fucking word for it. The way he drew you - that's how a person draws when they're in love."

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, Armin receives a text from Eren, out of the blue.

 

**From: Eren Jäger**

 

_4:48. hey, sprry to bother. I know youre probably weirded out by awhile ago and i just wanna let you know that i ddint know youd be in that class. sorry. I wouldnt have accepted the offer to model if i had known bcos i know you dont rly wanna see me?? I promised I'll keep my distance but just letting u know that if ever you wanna talk or meet up I'm just here. i feel like ive said that a million times already but w/e lol. hope youre doing ok. take care arm_

* * *

 

"Hey," Armin greeted as he stepped into his and Jean's shared dorm room a few nights later. Slipping his shoes off, he walked towards his boyfriend, who was busy glued to his clunky laptop typing rapidly.

 

After a few moments, “Hey yourself,” Jean replied absentmindedly. Armin slipped off his pants, put it into the laundry basket, and joined his boyfriend on the bed. Jean was typing up what looked like an essay… on astronomy. The blond leaned his head against the other boy’s shoulder and closed his eyes briefly.

 

“What’s that essay for?”

 

Jean’s typing stopped for a bit. “I forgot this paper is due tonight. It’s for one of my pain-in-the-ass GEs. I don’t know why I chose astronomy.”

 

“Hey, astronomy is fun,” Armin huffed out. “I can help if you want.”

 

With a small, amused laugh, Jean ruffled the blond’s already messy nest of hair. “Nah, I think I’d wanna get this done on my own. Thanks though.”

 

Armin shrugged his shoulders against Jean’s. “Suit yourself.”

 

Unlocking his phone to play one of his mindless games, the blond boy suddenly remembered the text Eren sent him a few days prior. In the constant flow of things to accomplish, he had forgotten about it. On top of his school work, he still had his entry for Prof. Smith’s book due that same week. He had started to write it several times, but each time, Armin ended up unenthused with the product. He was too tired, too distracted, and generally not in the correct mindset to write. Prof. Smith emailed him about it, reminding him of the very strict deadline. He emphasized that if Armin didn’t meet the said deadline of submission, it wouldn’t be a problem for him to pick another deserving student – there were a good number of them who wanted the same opportunity that was practically handed over Armin on a silver platter. He promptly replied to his professor's email, promising that he was working on it, and that his entry was going swimmingly. He gulped as he sent the email, feeling a small twinge of guilt from lying through his teeth.

 

As for the text, Armin didn't reply to it. He even considered deleting Eren’s number and be done with it. It sat in his inbox, collecting metaphorical dust for days. Beside him, Jean continued to make under the breath complaints about the Asteroid Belt, while his fingers smashed against the sticky keys. The blond stared at his phone, the message, and the somewhat numb urgency that nagged him to confront Jean.

 

"Fucking _finally_ ," Jean groaned beside him, slamming his laptop shut. "You wouldn't believe how many words I bullshitted about rocks floating around in space."

 

He put his arms around the blond, who was quiet, biting his lower lip. The blond's boyfriend placed a warm and wet kiss on his cheek, and pulled up his t-shirt to blow a raspberry into Armin's somewhat pudgy tummy. San Francisco food was starting to take a toll on his figure.

 

"Hey, Armin," Jean mumbled into his neck.

 

"Mm."

 

The other boy let out a soft sigh. "Come on, tell me what's up, Arm."

 

It was now or never. Armin couldn't maneuver himself out of this conversation this time; he had done it so many times in the past by using his assignments or exhaustion as thinly-veiled excuses, and he had a feeling Jean was perceptive enough to realize he was running away from the topic. He needed to tell his boyfriend everything, whether or not it would harm, or even end their short-lived relationship with him. _It was good while it lasted_ , Armin said to himself bitterly, gulping visibly.

 

Jean further prompted the blond for an answer. "Armin."

 

"If you're gonna get mad, just- just don't shout at me, please," the blond rushed out, facing the wall and not at his boyfriend. “I won’t be able to deal with that.”

 

"Unless you're plotting to murder me, I don't think I will."

 

Armin rubbed his eyes. "I think I'm still in love with Eren, Jean."

 

He had said it slowly, and it seemed as if it wasn't even his own voice that said it. Ashamedly, the blond turned over to his side completely and took deep breaths, waiting for his boyfriend's reaction. Now, he couldn't take it back, he couldn't play it off as some deadpan joke and pretend he was just fucking with Jean.

 

 _Breathe. Breathe, Armin. You're going to be fine_ , he told himself desperately. _Jean won't lose it_.

 

Several breaths later, Armin heard Jean let out a few confused noises. "But... why?" he spluttered out. "All this time?"

 

The blond turned over and sat up to face his boyfriend, who had his head in his hands, trying to take everything in. He was wearing one of Armin's old shirts, which looked way too tight on him. "No, maybe, but maybe subconsciously... Ever since I swung by his apartment-"

 

"I knew it," Jean laughed humorlessly. "I knew he pulled something to try and get you back at his place when he well _knew_ you had a boyfriend already. I mean. He _did_ know, right, Armin?"

 

"He knew," the blond said immediately, his voice audibly wavering. "He knew, and he didn't pull any tricks, Jean. He didn't do what he did to try and win me back — Eren isn't like that...."

 

The other boy scoffed and faced the blond with his sharp eyes. "Didn't do _what_ , exactly, Armin? You told me nothing happened. Besides, I don’t trust the guy one bit."

 

With much humiliation, he closed his eyes and ducked his head. He knew it was the wrong move to lie to Jean about it. He should've told him that night to avoid things blowing up in their faces like this. It was _his_ fault, not Eren's — he was absolutely positive that the brunet wouldn't try to steal Armin away. He simply needed to get his feelings off his chest. It definitely wasn't Jean's fault. They had been living with so much tension recently that Armin already felt sorry for dragging his boyfriend along in his act of playing pretend. Who was he kidding? He had been stupid, so stupid, that he wouldn't be surprised if Jean proposed to break it off with him already.

 

Armin sniffled and pressed his eyes into his palms. "Eren admitted that he still had feelings for me. It may not exactly be love, but it's something. And it's there-"

 

"What else did he do?"

 

"He didn't do anything wrong, okay?!" Armin snapped, raising his shaky voice a little bit. "It's my fault, everything is. I lied to you, I kept all that from you. I really shouldn’t have done that, and look where that got me now."

 

Jean sighed deeply and turned to face the blond on their shared bed. "I still think he's an asshole."

 

Armin laid back down with a thump, his messy and frazzled head hitting the pillow. "Jean, please. Please," he muttered weakly, tucking his hands underneath his underarms.

 

"You love him?" the other boy asked, his voice quiet and raspy.

 

A pregnant pause. "Yes."

 

"Do you love me?"

 

"Jean, I-"

 

"Do you?" Jean pressed on, placing a firm hand on Armin's slumped shoulder.

 

"I do, I really do. Don't doubt that. I already told Eren to keep his distance, and I told him I'd keep mine. I promise I won’t start anything."

 

"What did he say?"

 

"He agreed. He won't be talking to me, nor will I."

 

With another sigh, Jean laid down beside Armin, leaving a little space between the two of them. The blond was letting out little sniffles, and blinking back his tears.

 

"I can't do anything if you love him," Jean said quietly to Armin's slender back. “That’s on you.”

 

The other boy wept quietly, gripping his phone tightly under the pillow. "Yes you can."

 

"No, I can't. I want you to be as happy and comfortable with yourself, Armin. I know I'm just an average guy and there's nothing special about me, and he must’ve done something amazing back then that made stay special to you until now, but. I, uh, I try to be good for you."

 

"For starters, you can break up with me and make things easier."

 

The other one let out a forced laugh and sniffled, too. “I’m not breaking up with you. What would that say about me? I, I don’t know. I just need some time to think about this, about what I’m going to do with you. You need to cool off, I need to too, so let’s just agree on that.”

 

Armin turned his head into his pillow. “I didn’t mean to. I thought everything between Eren and I was good, I thought we were friends. I’m sorry, Jean. I am.”

 

A heavy silence fell over the room, and both found it hard to breathe. The blond very well knew that their relationship was hanging by a thread, and one wrong move by either of them could spell its end. Armin didn’t want it to end. If it did, he’d just fall into an endless pit of trying to forget about not just one boy, but two. It was true what Jean said, though, that Eren must’ve done something extra special to be able to have such a strong pull on Armin. The brunet was everything to him, obviously; they had spent summers together, sweating by the lake. They had spent biting winters together, curled up an inch too close to the fireplace. It wasn’t something specific that Eren did. It was all of those little things. He was Armin’s first, and first loves never really died, he supposed.

 

Jean gently laid his sweaty palm on Armin’s head. “I’m sleeping on the other bed tonight,” he whispered, without waiting for his boyfriend’s response. The blond was too devastated to respond, anyways.

 

The lights went off without much ceremony, with each of them on separate beds not knowing how to face the situation currently at hand.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please dont forget to leave feedback! kudos & comments kick me into writing mode


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you i would deliver!!!!!! hope you guys enjoy this – i had a ton of fun writing this chapter

Krista sipped her iced coffee slowly, savoring the almost too-sweet taste. “Trouble in paradise,” she said, as if she were stating a fact. A fact, indeed, it was.

Armin nodded pitifully as he took another big bite from his greasy burger. Stress eating.

They were seated outside a posh cafe near the Bay Area, lazily sipping at their cold drinks. Armin was dressed up sloppily in an old, baggy, and vividly colored tourist hoodie that his grandfather bought for him when they had drove up to New York that one time. He actually wanted to go home, back to his quiet life where his boy trouble wouldn’t find him. His grandfather would gladly take him back in again. _I could just become the village idiot and not deal with any of this_ , he thought to himself, briefly considering it.

Krista knew about everything that went down between him, Eren, and Jean. She was kind of like his best friend – she kept quiet the whole time, listening to Armin sadly recount the prior events. When he was done with telling her all about it, Krista narrowed her eyes a little bit and shook her head slightly at the other blond, gently chastising him for his actions. He was glad she didn’t try to make it seem like it wasn’t his fault, and that she didn’t attempt to make him feel better with hollow reassurements. That’s what Armin liked about her – inside her saccharine exterior, she was very realistic and hard-assed when it came to putting sense into people. He hated to admit it, but that was exactly what he needed.

“You can’t blame Jean for how he reacted. In fact, if he were anybody else, you would be single by now,” she had said.

Although Armin’s chest felt lighter from opening up, he still had no idea what to do. The situation didn’t get any lighter. Jean was distant, he still talked to him (of course, it was unavoidable – they were roommates), but outside of that they had no interactions that hinted that they were actually okay. It had been like that for the past few days. Jean was too serious, too formal. It wasn’t anything the blond was used to and he awkwardly tried to hold conversations with his boyfriend (could he even call him that at this point?) but they all fizzled out after a few minutes. He couldn’t blame Jean.

Taking one last bite of his burger, Armin leaned back into the cushioned back of the chair. “It doesn’t even help that we live in the same damn dorm room. What do couples even do when they’re on break?” he moaned out. “What’s the point?”

The other blonde gave him a sad smile. “Just wait it out. That’s the best advice I can give you, because pushing Jean to interact with you in the way you want won’t get you anywhere good. But I guess it’s good that you’re trying to talk, to let him know you’re putting effort into patching things up.”

“I hate boys.”

“Oh, Armin. Boys don’t hate _you_ , I'm sure. Anyone would be ecstatic to have two hunks, id est Eren and Jean fighting over you and playing tug of war,” she said innocently and teasingly, her big eyes watching the people pass by in the adjacent street. Everyone was out to swim with their inflatables in hand, and Armin enviously watched them skip over to the beach.

“ _Not helping_ ,” he groaned, burying his face in his arms.

On top of everything, his entry for Prof. Smith’s book was due _that night_. He didn’t know how he’d manage when he was there, passing the time in random, not to mention expensive, cafe. There were about a million things he needed to get done and he was doing none of them.

_Damn the post-impressionism movement_ , Armin thought to himself. He really didn't want to disappoint Prof. Smith, though. Disappointing him would probably mean humiliation for the rest of his stay here at the university, not to mention his further studies and job opportunities down the line, too. He had about a little more than half typed up in his laptop, but it was nowhere near refined. He needed to work on it that night, and it didn't matter what came up.

Armin sort of became a rising star in Prof. Smith's class. The professor announced to the class that he had handpicked him to write for his upcoming book. After that, his classmates started flocking to him, congratulating him. Some even asked how to get on Prof. Smith's good side, and even asking if he had gotten a glimpse of a certain black haired man visiting his office. It was odd, and Armin didn't know what they were talking about.

"Armin. Just relax about it, alright?" Krista's voice cut into his thoughts gently. "In reality, you're gonna go through a lot of people while you're here, unless you're one of those that somehow stick with their first ever boyfriend or girlfriend. God only knows how many girls I’ve shacked up with."

The boy sighed. "You're right; I mean, I just kinda really hate myself right now."

"Hey. I know it sounds real cheesy but on the off chance things don't work out with Jean, take it as a learning experience. You had a good time with him right?"

"Yeah," Armin said into his almost empty glass.

Krista reached over across the small table and took the other blond's hand into hers. "Then that's what matters. I've known Eren for over two years, and I know he wouldn't do anything like try to break up a happy relationship. He’s a good boy, and I’m sure you know that. Jean needs to realize that, too. It's all just a complicated misunderstanding," she sighed. Armin thanked her softly, staring into his reflection on the glass.

"I can't believe I became a relationship counselor. I should just drop out and pursue that," she said with an uncharacteristically straight face.

"Then who will I go to when I have boy trouble?" Armin asked her with a pout.

Krista laughed and took another big sip from her coffee. "Whatever, you'll do just fine without me."

 

* * *

 

The dorm room was uncharacteristically dark, and it smelled suspiciously like strong coffee and Kraft Mac & Cheese. It made sense, Armin supposed. That’s all he had been eating to give him enough energy to stay up and finish his entry for Prof. Smith’s book. It was around half past eleven in the evening, and it was due at exactly twelve thirty. An hour from then. The blond was confident he could finish it; he had been working on in for the whole day after he got home from his breakfast with Krista. In spite of his aching back, which was probably bent in a very unhealthy and definitely uncomfortable position for the past few hours, he was powering through.

His phone was lying next to his laptop with the screen lit up. Jean wasn’t home yet; he usually was, and Armin figured he was allowed to be worried. He considered texting him, just to be safe, but decided against it. Jean was probably out and about in the town, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. He kept his phone at an arm’s length, anyways, just in case. It _was_ also his only source of light, aside from his laptop.

Armin got up and made himself another coffee, stronger than usual. He was on his last leg and could slowly feel his drowsiness kicking in, but he needed to stay up for another hour, at least. From the kitchen, he heard his phone’s shrill ringtone (the opening song of _Ouran High School Host Club_ ) suddenly fill the room. He left his half-made coffee on the small counter and went over to his phone quickly.

**CALLING**

**_Ymir_ **

Staring at his phone, Armin wondered why she was calling him in the middle of the night. Or, why she was calling in the first place. He gulped, admittedly kind of scared of answering the phone.

“Hello? Ymir?” he said into his phone reluctantly.

“Hey, Blondie. You might wanna come over here,” she drawled. There was so much background noise, and Armin had to strain his ears to hear what the girl was saying on the other line.

“Uh, why? And I don’t even know where you are.”

Ymir snickered. Armin was kind of scared. “Over here at The Wall. I work here.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed on, all while trying to continue typing on his laptop. “Why? I’m kinda busy.”

“Well, for starters, your two boyfriends are getting quite physical over here. And not even the sexy kind of ‘physical’,” Ymir said, her tone sarcastic but bored at the same time. “Look, they’re this close to throwing punches at each other. Just thought I’d let you know.”

Without a second thought, Armin ended the call and was running down the stairs to hail a cab, his entry to the book be damned.

* * *

Luckily, The Wall was only around ten minutes away from Armin’s dorm by car. Ymir was outside the bar, leaning against the brick wall and taking a smoke.

“Hey! Ymir!” the blond called out as soon as he hopped out of the car.

She let out an audible groan, taking the cigarette out of her mouth. “Yes, they’re still at it. Inside. Can’t miss ‘em.”

“And you didn’t even try to break it up?!” he said anxiously, grabbing at her sleeve.

“I don’t like to meddle with things that don’t involve me. And don’t touch me like that.”

Armin sighed, releasing his grip. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “Thanks for giving me a head’s up about it, anyways.”

Ymir brought the still burning cigarette up to her mouth again and let out a smoke-filled exhale into the cold air. “No problem.”

He quickly pushed into the bar, and through the crowd. Bars really, really weren’t Armin’s type of thing, obviously – he always turned down Connie’s or Reiner’s constant invitations to go out and, according to them, “get rek’d”. He didn’t have an idea on what that meant.

Armin probably looked out of place in an old croptop, bright floral leggings (a very bad fashion choice he made when he was 16 and a loyal Hot Topic customer), and his hair haphazardly pulled into a loose ponytail with a scrunchie. He weaved through the crowd, thanking his lucky stars that he was pretty small and skinny enough to slip past people.

Lo and behold, there were Eren and Jean, at each other’s collars in the middle of the bar.

Armin Arlert didn’t know how his life came to this – this acme, this peak of humiliation–

“Hey, Armin!” a familiar voice called out to him from his left side. It was Connie, with two beer bottles in his right hand, and his left hand waving rapidly. “Take a look at that!” he said, motioning over to the fight.

“ _Connie_ ,” the blond wailed, fifty percent glad there was someone he knew in the bar, but also fifty percent more embarrassed. “What the hell happened!?”

The bald boy took a gulp from his beer and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, so I invite Jean for a few drinks because I know he's been kind of in a rut. Uh, sorry about that – I know you guys are kinda having trouble with each other. Anyways, I try to squeeze the story out of him but he wouldn't budge, like at all, man-"

"Get the fuck _off_ me, Jäger! Look what you did to Armin and I!" Jean's angry voice interrupted. The blond fliched — he had never heard him raise his voice like that. What made it worse was that they were fighting over _him_ , and that was the last thing he wanted. The two fighting boys didn't seem to notice Armin on the sidelines, and he kind of wished they wouldn't as he shrank into himself, wanting to disappear.

"What the _fuck_?! I didn't do a goddamn thing to you! You're the one who's acting like a piss baby," Eren hissed out dangerously.

Connie laughed awkwardly and took another sip. "So we were there, over by the bar, drinking. Then Eren walks in all by himself for some reason — the dude's hardly ever alone — and I tell him, 'hey, it's Eren!' Then Jean just fucking _loses_ it. Like, he slams his glass down on the counter, and just takes off from his seat. I mean, I tried to hold him back, Armin. But he was just so angry for some reason. He stands up and walks over to Eren, and he just fucking shoves him into a table!"

"I swear to God, why didn't _anyone_ try to break it up?" Armin asked urgently, thrusting his hand out to the scene in front of them. The crowd around them wasn't helping — in fact, some were cheering enthusiastically. "Where's the manager?!"

"Good luck with that, kid. Ymir is the manager. She could care less about bar fights – in fact, she’d rather let someone else handle those types of things."

Armin gritted his teeth. " _Fuck_!"

There was absolutely _no way_ he could break up that fight with his little body. Nobody else seemed to be interested in doing so, either.

The two kept throwing creative profanities at each other, still not taking notice of Armin, who was on the brink of tears from the sheer lack of knowledge on what to do. Eren’s face was red with anger, and his eyebrows were drawn together. It gave him a fiercely intimidating look, a look Armin never saw him possess. He grabbed Jean’s collar and tightened his grip.

“Look, I never did a thing to you, asshole,” Eren spat out. “I just came here for a nice night out, alone, and you waltzed in and absolutely _destroyed_ it.”

Jean scoffed, staring the other boy down, equally as furious. “Well you waltzed in an absolutely destroyed my _relationship_ , you dickhead!”

Eren let go of him and took a step back. “Look, I already told Armin that I’d keep my distance as to not mess with you and him. I was trying to be the bigger person, but you’re making me look like the villain here with your whiny ass,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I wonder what he sees in you.”

Jean stepped forward into the brunet’s space again, his hand on Eren’s stiff shoulder. “What the _fuck_ did you say?”

“I _said_ , I wonder what Armin sees in you, you absolute piece of shit.”

That’s when the first punch was thrown.

It’s like time slowed down and Armin swore he could see Jean’s fist flying at Eren’s face before it even hit. The crowd went silent, unsure whether or not the fight was going too far already. Beside him, Connie blanched, and shouted out a worried, “Jean!”

Eren stumbled back, his hand flying up to his bleeding and bruised nose. “ _Jesus_ ,” he coughed out. Meanwhile, Jean was still standing a few good feet from the other boy with his fist still weakly raised, as if he were disbelieving of what he just did.

Armin was rendered speechless. His hands shook, wet with cold sweat, and he wanted to get out of The Wall as soon as he could. But he was stuck in place, and he couldn’t force anything to come out of his mouth.

Beside him, Connie blanched. “This is _not_ good. Eren isn’t exactly known to have the best temper, and surely if nobody intervenes he’ll throw the next punch,” he said hurriedly. He turned to Armin. “Dude. You gotta do something. You’re the only one who can make this shit stop. Don’t make me call Mikasa.”

“But-”

“Do it for the both of them, come on.”

So Armin took a small step forward, daring himself to put the attention on himself, even if it was against his will. He took another, and another, until he was right in front of the two other boys who had gone silent, both still in shock after the turn of events.

“What the hell are you guys doing,” Armin breathed out, and it wasn’t even a question.

Eren’s head snapped up, and Jean’s eyes widened. Both had nothing to say for themselves.

The blond ran a sweaty hand through his unbrushed hair and looked at the ground. “Were you seriously fighting over me?”

“Armin, I-” Eren said, but he cut himself off to look down, ashamed. “I don’t know what to fucking say. I'm _sorry_.”

He turned to Jean. “And you,” he said quietly. “When did you start going around picking fights with people? And throwing punches, at that?”

“Didn’t you hear him, Armin?” Jean choked out. “He asked what you saw in me. I know I’m an asshole, but. I- I couldn’t take that.”

“You have no right to punch him. From what I know, you’re the one who started it.”

“Of course, because you’re probably going to choose him after all this, anyways,” the taller boy said, closing his eyes.

Eren lifted his head. His nose had stopped bleeding, but his upper cheek was swollen and in need of an ice pack. “Can’t you cut it out for at least two seconds?”

“ _You_ cut it out, Eren. I know you can handle yourself better than that, yet you let yourself get provoked. And besides, I want to know why you two were fighting over me,” Armin said lowly, speaking to the both of them.

The two boys were silent, sobered up from the weight of the situation at hand.

“I’m not a commodity to be fought over. I’m not an object.”

"I know," Eren said guiltily.

Jean was teary-eyed, constantly sniffling and bringing his hand up to wipe his tears away. Eren sat on the ground, glassy-eyed and slumped over. It was a pathetic sight, and Armin was absolutely humiliated.

“Are we over?” Jean asked, his voice wavering. When Armin refused to say anything, he took that as a silent and obvious 'yes'.

There was a pregnant silence which consisted mostly of Jean’s silent weeping. The crowd around them slowly fizzled out, finally bored with that night’s live entertainment. After a few moments, Ymir walked in with her slender hands shoved into her coat pockets. Connie still stood at the sidelines, unsure on what to do.

“Okay, I go out for a smoke and I come back, and I’d like to know what the hell happened in here,” she announced with an exasperated sigh.

Connie turned to her and shook his head. “A fistfight, a bleeding nose, and a breakup. I kinda feel like I’m in a soap opera,” he said humorlessly. “It wasn’t very pretty to sit through.”

She looked over towards the three boys awkwardly placed in the middle of her bar, not uttering a single word.

“They’ve been like that for a good ten minutes,” Connie said from behind her.

“Jesus, that’s pathetic,” she said flatly. “Hey! Come over here for a second, you three.”

Finally snapping out of whatever state of shock they were in, Eren, Jean, and Armin miserably walked over to Ymir, who had her hip cocked to one side and a very annoyed look on her tan face. The three stood in front of her like a group of children being scolded.

“I don’t usually do this, and I absolutely despise dipping my fingers into whatever issues the people who walk in here have. Since you three are my friends– well, Eren is, at least. I’m considering Armin as a friend too because he’s friends with Krista. I don’t consider Jean as my friend, but whatever. I want you to sort your shit out, preferably not in my bar. So I’m going to call Mikasa–”

“ _Shit_ ,” Eren gasped. “Ymir, no, no, no, please don’t do that.”

“Look. Only she can slap sense into boys like you,” Ymir said, unimpressed. “I’m going to call Mikasa and tell her to take you to some cafe or whatever, I actually don’t really care. Just get your asses out of here.”

Armin and Jean nodded, docile. Eren, however, was rubbing his eyes furiously. It seemed as if he were close to tears with the mere thought of Mikasa picking them up and finding out about what went down.

 

* * *

“I don’t have the energy to give you three a lecture at two AM,” Mikasa sighed. “I’m dropping Jean off at the dorms, Armin off at Krista’s, and Eren’s coming with me. I think it’s best to have you guys talk things out tomorrow.”

The four sat in a shuttle, definitely not in their best states. Jean and Eren looked disheveled, Armin looked like a wet towel, and Mikasa was still in her raggedy sleeping shirt and loose pyjama bottoms.

“Imagine my surprise when Ymir calls me in the middle of a perfectly good sleep just to be notified that she was counting on me to pick up you three at a _bar_ , of all places. Be happy that I’m too tired for this shit.”

The ride was slower than Armin expected, and a lot bumpier. The first stop was at the dorms, where Jean would be left. Mikasa decided that it was best to separate the three for the night, in case more punches were thrown. The blond was glad about that – he didn’t know how he would’ve handled sleeping when his brand new ex-boyfriend was just in the next bed.

When they finally got to the dorms, Jean stood up and got off the bus without a word, not even sparing Armin a glance. He wondered how things would play out – was he going to file for a change of roommate, or was Jean expecting him to do that? How long would that even take to process?

The remaining three sat quietly, waiting for the bus to stop at the station near Krista’s house. Mikasa had already given her a text, asking if it would be okay to let Armin crash there for the night. She knew the blonde girl would still be up – she was a night owl, if there ever was one, keeping herself busy even in the early hours in the morning. Nobody knew how she did it, and while still maintaining a sunny demeanor throughout the day.

That was a conversation Armin sort of dreaded. Krista would definitely ask for the whole story, not letting him spare any details. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody, and going back on the events just made him cringe. Armin hoped that the other blonde would just let him get some sleep, even if only very few hours remained until his first class.

Finally, they got to Krista’s neighborhood. Armin stood up on wobbly knees and softly thanked Mikasa for being so considerate and patient, enough to actually pick them up and make sure the three of them got home safely. He looked over to Eren, who was looking down to his knees with his bushy eyebrows drawn together. It was best not to say anything more than that, Armin supposed, as he carefully stepped off the shuttle carefully. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mikasa smiling sadly at him.

He walked over to Krista’s apartment building and rang the doorbell. Before he could ring it again, the door swung open, and there she was. Her eyes were wide and worried, and she held out her arms for Armin to fall into.

“Ymir told me everything,” she said softly into his hair. “Let’s get you some tea. I already set everything up – you can sleep on my bed for tonight.”

Before he knew it, tears were leaking out of his eyes, wetting his friend’s sleeping shirt. “I d-don’t even know what’s going o-on anymore,” he choked out. “It’s all my _fault_.”

“Shh, no, come on. Let’s go inside. You need some sleep, and we can talk tomorrow,” Krista said gently, handing him a warm mug of tea.

The tears didn’t stop, though. Armin cried softly into the mug and hung his head low.

“Oh, Armin,” the blonde girl sighed, petting his head softly and sympathetically. The two didn’t say anything more, and Armin eventually fell asleep with his head perched on Krista’s shoulder and his hands wrapped snugly around the mug. In another type of situation, his friend would’ve snapped a picture of the endearing sight, but that wasn’t the case.

So she let Armin sleep.

 

* * *

The next morning was sluggish and Armin was delirious, waking up at around eleven and staying in bed for another good hour or so. Krista had a free day, so she was there to tend to his needs. She even brought him breakfast in bed, which consisted of blueberry pancakes, cheese franks, hash browns, and milk. He considered proposing to her right then and there.

To Armin's dismay, Krista didn't wake him up in time for his first class. He couldn't bother remembering what it was, though, but that probably meant that it was unimportant. She had forced him to stay in bed and relax about it, to put himself first before he got himself stressed out and worked up about doing class work again.

"So," Krista said, sitting down on her soft bed where Armin was still sprawled in. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I think you know everything to it already," he said, his voice muffled by the pillows. "I broke up with Jean."

"Are you regretting it?"

Armin lifted his face off of the pillow. "I don't know. It's the first time I've even been the one to break up with someone."

"If you weren't happy with how things were, then you had every right to," she said, looking out the window. It was another sunny day out, perfect for swimming.

"I was just scared... I didn't know what to _do_ ," Armin gritted out, frustrated with himself. "I feel like I'm just avoiding having to face it."

Krista sighed. "Breakups are never easy, believe me. But sometimes you have to put your own happiness first."

He smushed his face into the pillows again. "I don't even feel like that's what I'm doing. I feel like I'm just being avoidant."

"Hey. I think you should just take it easy first."

"And wallowing in my self pity is _not_ helping me. I should just go to class," Armin groaned out.

The blonde girl got up and cleared the tray table off of the bed, and ruffled her friend's messy bedhead. "The shower's right down the hall. You can borrow some clothes of mine if you're comfortable with that for the day," she said. "I'm going to run a few errands, so just text me if you need anything, 'kay?"

With that, Armin got up and stretched the sleep out of his limbs. He was still wearing last night's outfit, and his skin felt sticky. Shaking his head, willing the unwanted thoughts out of his head, he rolled out of Krista's soft bed and headed for a much needed shower.

 

* * *

 

The only class he could make it to that day, which was his Introductory Sculpture class, was luckily his last class for the day, too. He walked down the hall sluggishly with his head down, clutching his heavy bag that he passed by for in the dorm (to his luck, Jean wasn’t there when he swung by).

The professor of the class was Mike Zacharius. He was a quiet man with a low, rumbly voice. Prof. Zacharius also had a penchant for sniffing the different materials they used for sculpting their works. Many students found it endearing.

Walking down the hall tiredly, Armin stared at his feet. He didn't know where he was sleeping tonight, because going back to the dorm was something he did _not_ want to do. It wasn’t bad at all sleeping at Krista’s – no, it was a million times better than his dorm room. Her bed was soft and fluffy, unlike his bed back in the dorm which was probably just a notch above sleeping on the floor. He even got free food (of course, the burden was still on Krista to cook and all that), but Armin didn’t want to be a freeloader. He supposed asking his friend if he could sleep over for a few more days wouldn’t really hurt, in fact, a new environment would probably help him refresh his mind…

Lost in his thoughts, Armin didn’t take notice of the tall blond man who he was about to bump into. His head bumped into the man’s broad upper chest, and he jumped back in surprise, apologizing profusely to the man he had ungracefully crashed into in the middle of the almost empty hall.

“Oh!” Armin squeaked, rubbing his head. “I’m so, so, so sorry about that, I wasn’t looking at where I was going–”

In front of him stood Prof. Smith, in his perfectly ironed button up shirt and perfectly combed back hair, with a hardened but blank look on his chiseled face. It all came flooding back to Armin – his unfinished submission, which was now too many hours late, was still sitting in his laptop. He couldn’t believe that he only remembered it at that moment, so the younger blond stood there, staring up at his professor with his mouth agape.

“Hello, Armin,” Prof. Smith said cordially, his tone not giving any hints of, well, anything. “Would you care to explain–”

“I can explain!” he cut the older man off. “I can, I swear, just. Before anything, I’m just gonna apologize, because I know you don’t have the best impression of me…”

“You’re correct about that. I give you a deadline, and I was even surprised to realize you didn’t submit it early, which I know you are fully capable of,” Prof. Smith said calmly. “Would you want to come to my office?”

Armin made a nervous and unsure sound. “I have a class with Prof. Zacharius in a few minutes, and I don’t really want to skip out on that.”

“No worries, I’ll tell him you were with me. He’s a good friend of mine; we were roommates in college.” Prof. Smith then turned swiftly on his heel, walking down the opposite end of the hallway to his office.

With a gulp, the younger blond followed him there, willing his much shorter legs to keep up, and hoping for the best.

 

* * *

 

“Prof. Ackerman?!”

“Surprise, surprise. Just ignore me. I won’t eavesdrop on whatever you two will be chattering about,” the black haired man sighed. He was sitting on the couch in Prof. Smith’s office sipping his tea, almost daintily, like a cat. He was lazily flipping through an art book.

“B-but why are you here?” Armin asked dumbly. _Not like it's any of my business_ , he thought, mentally face palming himself.

Prof. Ackerman rolled his eyes and swished his teacup around. “I do as I please,” he said, and that was that.

“Please, take a seat,” the blond man cut in, talking directly to Armin. “Don’t mind Levi. Even if he’s there, he probably won’t care anyways,” he said honestly, casting an easy look at the other man.

“Uh.”

“Let’s start with why you didn’t submit anything.”

“I did it, Sir, it’s on my computer, but it’s not quite finished yet. I was all set to send it last night but, uh. Something came up,” Armin said shyly. “I can, uh, I can finish it today, right now if you want!”

Completely ignoring the second thing his student said, Prof. Smith sighed. “Unless it was a family problem that suddenly came up, or a health emergency, I can’t think of anything that would be more important than that entry, that it would actually deem you unable to finish it on time, Armin.”

The younger blond squirmed in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek. Sure, he could easily lie that his grandfather had an emergency and be done with it… He could take the easy way out…

“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you won’t lie to me either, because I trust you. I can’t imagine why someone like you would need to lie to me, anyhow.”

But Armin was through with lying just to save his own ass. He knew Prof. Smith held him in a high regard, higher than his other students, and lying to him about something like this would just be distasteful.

“It wasn’t a family thing, or a health emergency,” Armin said softly, hiding his face under his bangs. “To tell the truth, well, my ex-boyfriend and my current boyfriend – well, he’s now my ex too – got into a fist fight at a bar last night.”

His professor was silent, looking straight at Armin. “And it required your presence?”

“Well, of course it did!” the younger cried. “They were at it for such a long time, and if I wasn’t there to break it up things would’ve gotten much worse!”

“Wait, you were the one to break up the fist fight? Alone?” the man asked with his thick eyebrows raised in slight surprise.

“Yes.”

“Are you hurt in any way?” he asked worriedly.

“Physically, no. In every other way, yes,” Armin said with a forced laugh. “I know it’s not a valid excuse, and it’s my fault because I should’ve put this before everything else. The reason I couldn’t submit earlier was because my relationship was going through a really rough patch, and I honestly couldn’t concentrate properly. I felt depressed and anxious, and I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Your romantic relations and your academic endeavors should be two separate–”

“I’m aware of that!” Armin pressed on, gripping the armrests of the chair tightly. “I’m aware, and I’m sorry about everything because I know I screwed up _big_ time, and I totally understand if you want to pass this opportunity to someone more deserving. I know there are a lot lined up for your convenience, and I also know I failed when you counted on me to deliver something great.”

Armin’s professor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d hate to give you special treatment.”

“Then don’t. I should suffer for my mistakes,” he said, not even trying to hide his misery. The week just got worse and worse. “If you want me off this project, just say the word and I’ll be out of your hair. I’m thankful that you entrusted me with writing something, in the first place, don’t get me wrong. But I really do resent myself for putting that to waste. I’m really sorry.”

The older blond leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his temples. “Fine, then that’s that. I’m glad you realize your mistake. Thank you, as well, but I do not wish to hide my disappointment–”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Erwin,” Prof. Ackerman’s sharp voice interrupted. The black haired man stood up from his place on the couch, put his empty teacup down on the table, and walked over to the desk. “The kid just went through something really shitty, and you take the chance away from him just like that, you old brick?”

“Levi, I–”

“I’m sure Arlert could probably write astoundingly better entries than your other delinquents, am I not correct?”

The other professor clicked his tongue. “Professor Ackerman, sit down. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Don’t you _Professor Ackerman_ , me, Erwin. I just think there’s something fundamentally wrong with how you’re handling this whole thing, he said calmly, inspecting his nails. “He’s my student too, in case you forgot, and if I had any say in this I would let him finish whatever shit he was writing for you.”

Armin was staring at Prof. Ackerman with wide blue eyes, not believing what was happening in front of him. Just when he had thought the opportunity slipped through his fingers, he still had a tiny, fighting chance of actually pursuing it. He then looked over to Prof. Smith, whose lips were pressed into a hard, thin line; he was obviously in deep thought over the matter.

“Prof. Ackerman,” Armin spoke up timidly. “Thank you.”

His short professor simply cast him a blank look, and looked back up at the older blond. “Well? Don’t even try to get away with your bullshit, Erwin. You don’t even actually _need_ the entries yet, you still need them by next fucking month at the earliest. Sometimes I don’t understand what goes on in that shitty blond head of yours.”

Armin sat in his seat, shell shocked. How could Prof. Ackerman get away with talking to Prof. Smith like that? His Art History professor was also the Dean of his department, so he was highly ranked in the academic hierarchy in the university. He didn’t even seem to be getting angry at the shorter man, in fact, he looked quite bashful and red-faced…

He put the pieces together (although it probably wasn’t the best time to be piecing together other people’s romantic relationships, especially his superiors’), and came to the conclusion that the two were involved in each other. To be fair, it took Armin quite awhile to pick up, even if his two professors seemed to not even try to be discreet about it. So _this_ was what his classmates were pestering him about.

Prof. Smith heaved a great sigh, and the student was brought back to reality. “You know what, as much as I hate to admit, Levi’s right.”

Armin gasped. “Are you serious?!”

“Yes, and before I change my mind, go on, hurry up, and finish the entry. My expectations are high, especially because you missed my first deadline. Send it to me as soon as you’re done. I’m sorry for that little, uh, mishap.” Prof. Smith said, exasperated. “But don’t assume I'm not disappointed in you.”

The younger blond shot up in his seat and let out a whoop. “ _Thankyouthankyouthankyou_!” he cried to the both of them. Turning around to Prof. Ackerman, he walked over to him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“ _Oi_ , Arlert! Get the _fuck_ off of me!” he growled. “Erwin!”

“You two have caused me enough stress for the day. I’m taking my leave now,” Prof. Smith said tiredly, getting up from his seat behind the mahogany desk. “Levi, would you be so kind to lock up for me?”

“Erwin, what the _shit_?! Couldn’t you at least wait for me?!”

“Thank you again, Prof. Smith!” the blond called out happily once again.

But Armin wouldn’t let his Sketching professor out of his hug, and there were tears blossoming in the corners of his eyes. And for the first time in a whole week, they were tears of joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally armin gets a break. dont worry eren and jean will also catch one real soon poor babs
> 
> im also considering writing a side chapter or two about erwin & levi... tell me what u guys think.. 
> 
> also thanks for reading!! pls leave me kudos and comments to tell me your input!! 
> 
> say hi to me on tumblr: armemearlert


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally... after 6 chapters we're finally here ; ; i guess this marks the end of part 1 of this fic? theres a lot more shenanigans coming after this but thank you so so much for reading so far! hope you enjoy!

The three boys sat on Mikasa’s couch (well, technically it was Eren’s too, but not as of the moment it seemed) with large awkward spaces between them. She called up Armin and Jean, telling them to be at the apartment at exactly 2 pm two days after the incident at the bar. Mikasa didn’t leave any room for complaints and excuses, and of course, she didn’t let Eren out of her sight in case he surreptitiously snuck out of their shared apartment.

 

The Asian girl sat in the chair opposite to the couch looking like a disappointed mother. None of them actually wanted to be there, for the record. Armin hated confrontation, obviously, and he would’ve actually been okay if just Eren and Jean talked it out themselves. Despite still feeling high off his barely escaped failure with Prof. Smith, he couldn’t help but feel a different kind of jittery as he sat on the second hand couch. And it wasn’t the pleasant kind – Armin felt like something very solid and very heavy found a home and settled in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I’m going to keep this blunt. You three will go into Eren’s room and talk it out until everything’s ironed out,” Mikasa said, her cutting stare boring into the three of them. “Take as long as you need because I’m not unlocking that door until you prove to me that you can be at least civil with each other. Especially Eren and Jean.”

 

Armin pulled on the end of his skirt. Technically, it was Krista’s – he had spent the past two nights at her place, and therefore raiding her closet for clothes he could wear. “Do I _really_ have to be here, then?”

 

“Yes,” Mikasa answered immediately, offering no other explanation.

 

Eren, who was sitting in the middle of the couch, let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re treating us like babies that are on time out.”

 

“That’s the point,” Jean said pointedly from the other side of the couch. Armin cast him a miffed look.

 

“Just go to the room already,” the girl said. She refused to serve as a referee to another one of their quarrels. “Get things straight with each other, please. For your own peace of mind.”

 

Reluctantly, Eren, Armin, and Jean got up from the couch and padded into the short hallway into the brunet’s room. It was small but cozy, and somewhat cramped with the amount of junk he had. There were band posters up on the wall, all overlapping each other, and his desk (Armin couldn’t really imagine what he would need a desk for) was cluttered with seemingly random baubles. The window, which was surprisingly big for such a small room, was draped with Eren’s unused hoodies as a makeshift curtain.

 

The bed was small, and like the rest of the room, messy and undid. There was a neon green beanbag tucked in one corner, and the brunet pulled it out so everyone didn’t need to sit awkwardly on the bed.

 

“I told him to fix his room,” Mikasa said under her breath as she fished around in her pants pocket for the key to the room. “I have an Economics class, so I won’t be here the whole time. Have fun, I guess, and if you get hungry, Eren has a secret stash of food in the box under his bed.”

 

Eren scrunched up his face. “How the hell did you know about that?!”

 

With a roll of her eyes, Mikasa closed the door and locked it from the outside.

 

* * *

 

“So, Jäger. Got a spare key?” Jean asked with a sigh. “This is honestly the last place I want to be at at the moment.”

 

The brunet plopped down on his bed ungracefully. “I already checked. She took it.”

 

Armin twiddled his thumbs and looked up at the two of them. Jean was leaning against the door with his arms folded defensively, and avoided looking at anyone. Eren was lying down on his bed with his unblinking eyes fixed on the ceiling; every now and then he would let out a tired sigh, waiting for something to happen without doing anything himself.

 

They were getting nowhere.

 

“So,” Armin said cheerfully forced, trying to make the situation less futile.

 

Jean looked at him, and their eyes met for a millisecond. Then he looked over at Eren from where he was by the door. “Give your roommate or whatever she is a call to let us out of here.”

 

“No can do, buddy. Why don’t you give it a try, I’m sure she’ll listen to you,” the one on the bed said sarcastically, swinging his long legs back and forth over the foot of the bed.

 

“Well, I would sure like to get out of this room that looks like a goddamn thirteen year old’s, may I add,” Jean said carelessly. “I have stuff to do, unlike you, who probably bums around all day looking  for pictures to pose for.” Armin knew what he was trying to do – he was trying to get a rise out of the other boy. He sent Jean a venomous glare, but the taller boy ignored his ex’s quiet rebuttal in what he was trying to do.

 

“Eren…” Armin said warningly.

 

“Don’t fucking start, man. I’m not stooping that low again.”

 

“Oh, get down from your high horse–”

 

“Hah, and that’s coming from _you_?!”

 

“What the hell are you trying to say?” Jean’s voice rose. He pushed himself off the door and stalked over to the other boy, who was still sprawled on his back on the bed.

 

“Would you two just calm down?” Armin said sharply, cutting the other two off. “We’re supposed to be resolving this! Mikasa didn’t put us in this goddamn room to start another fistfight!”

 

Eren sat himself up from the bed and looked down to the blond. “It’s not my fault that your boyfriend is a dickhead.”

 

“We broke up, you insensitive prick!” Jean called out loudly, his tone deeply hurt. After a few seconds of silence, “At least unlike you, I didn’t come crawling back to him trying to seduce him again."

 

Armin’s eyes widened. That was taking it too far. “Jean, shut up,” he gritted out, voice also rising both in volume and anger. But Eren immediately saw red, not letting the arguement go.

 

“How many _times_ do I have to tell you that I didn’t do a thing to him! I have enough decency to not be a homewrecker! I didn't force him into anything! Ask Armin — I don’t know why you’re so fuckin’ paranoid, Jean!” Eren defended.

 

“Would you two just give it a _rest_?!” the blond suddenly cried out from his little beanbag on the floor. “Is it so hard to just talk it out like adults?!”

 

Eren sighed, clenching his fists and unclenching them. It was a habit that he had developed when he got too worked up over something, or when he was close to blowing his top. “Goddamn it,” he whispered to himself, grabbing a tight fistful of his comforter.

 

“Okay, then let’s talk,” Jean snapped, sitting down on the floor near Armin. “Let’s talk this shit situation out until we miraculously discover some way all three of us can walk out of this unscathed.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” the blond grumbled.

 

“What do you want to do about it? Let’s start with Jean, since he’s so eager,” the brunet offered with a sneer.

 

Suddenly Jean sank into himself, betraying the arrogant face he was just showing. He reluctantly looked over to Armin. He wrung his fingers together, nervous all of a sudden.

 

“I want to apologize,” he said. "Uh, to Armin."

 

The blond ducked his head meekly, the long bangs shielding his face. The atmosphere had suddenly changed to something heated to something that was much softer, leaving more out in the open, as it were.

 

“Um. I don’t always apologize for my actions when I know I’m simply standing up for myself, but I let my arrogance get the best of me. Armin, I’m sorry. I- I know both of us are at fault, and you know I’ve always been the realistic kinda guy, so I realize that. You do too. But I’m sorry for worsening things,” he said quietly. "I'm aware that I humiliated you, that, uh, we humiliated you. I've spent these past few days just hitting myself over and over again, being so angry for just thinking about myself."

 

Armin simply nodded, deferentially. Although he was concentratedly listening to what Jean had to say, he willed his attention to the odd texture of the beanbag he was on to help rein in his tears. Eren sat quietly, still on his bed, pretending not to listen.

 

Jean chuckled softly, mostly to himself. "And I just lost the most amazing boyfriend. I won't lie — I don't like hiding what I feel, and I'm definitely not happy that we called it quits. I hate it. My life is gonna fuckin' suck from here on out for who knows how long. But even if I'm a selfish asshole, you're incredible, Armin, and all I can hope is that I made you happy in the few months we were together. I'll still be bitter about it, who am I kidding? But don't let that hinder you."

 

Eren clapped softly. "You done yet?"

 

"Actually, not yet, you ass," Jean retorted. "And Armin?"

 

The blond looked over to his side where the other boy was sitting. There was an awfully sincere look on his face, a contrast to what he had seen just recently, both today and in that bar — a look that was galled and snarky. Smug.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"If you ever decide to get with _this_ piece of work," he sighed, nodding towards Eren, "I can't say I'll support it." Then he smiled wetly, as if what he just said were a joke, and it was a crooked smile. Jean too was trying to rein in his tears which were a small push away from falling out from the corners of his eyes.

 

Eren's eyes narrowed, like a small child being scolded. "Hey!"

 

Jean shook his head with a small, sad smile on his face. "It was a joke. But jokes are half meant," he said, to no one in particular.

 

Armin realized he needed to say something, that they were waiting for his reaction. But, in all honesty, he didn't know what to say. At the same time, though, there were a million things bouncing around in his head, things he wanted to say, but he couldn't get a hold of a single one.

 

"I, uh. Thank you Jean," Armin stuttered. There was an awkward silence. He coughed, "do you, um. Want to hug?"

 

Jean laughed amusedly, and even Eren's sour face softened a little bit at the blond's endearingness.

 

"Sure, why not?"

 

They hugged tightly, and Armin breathed a sigh of relief that he and Jean ended on somewhat good terms. Despite the unexpected premise of their breakup, things were ironed out. There were still tiny creases that Armin hoped would smoothen out with time. They weren't ready to be friendly, which the blond was definitely open to, but this was enough for now. They were caught in an awkward position, with Armin still sinking into the beanbag chair and Jean kneeling and leaning over to him, capturing him in a warm hug. But both of them were content. Sure, closure was overrated, but it felt nice either way. It was good.

 

Armin never thought that he'd be the one to break up with Jean, if ever time time came. But he felt that it was necessary; he had mulled over it over the past two days, especially, and came to the conclusion that although he had broken up with Jean at the spur of the moment (when both of their emotions were running high), it was probably the lesser evil than waiting for things to suddenly fall into place. They weren't okay for weeks — and maybe that was a telltale sign in itself.

 

Armin had no time to think about his decision, and it seemed Jean didn't need time to think about his answer, either. He had probably sensed that it was a trainwreck waiting to happen. Jean always had a good intuition — he had a good head on his shoulders. He, too, probably thought the breakup was for the best, despite his heart nagging him to beg Armin to reconsider. And either way, his patience only ran so thin — there was another certain brunet also pining over his Armin from afar. It was a difficult thing to ignore when the blond was so upset over the whole thing.

 

Eren coughed loudly. "So! Is it my turn to say my part?"

 

The ex-couple separated abruptly. "Yeah," Armin said, his face still sort of red from melting into such a good hug.

 

Eren rubbed his hands together. "Okay, uh. I know I act like an overgrown child, and I sometimes feel entitled to getting things that I want. I've always been a hardheaded bastard. That's why I have Mikasa to pin me down. But getting to the point, Armin, you know that already. We practically grew up together, and by some twist of fate... what's the word? Oh yeah, our paths collided again. Say what you want, but I don't think that was a bad thing at all."

 

Eren paused, thinking of what to say next. His manner of speech hadn't changed; it was straight to the point with no frills, and he still stuttered and it was obvious his mouth was faster than his brain could keep up with, Armin noticed as he listened. Eren was easygoing – he wasn’t the type to keep grudges or prolong unnecessary things; he was simple, much like Jean in fact.

 

"But you know me — if I find myself in a fight, I always go at it with full speed ahead. It's something that Mikasa... often scolds me for. She hates it, and... I also hate that about myself, sometimes, too, I'm sorry about that. I really am. And, uh, it has gotten better over the past years. I don't really want to make an elaborate apology because, well. I don't know. It's not my thing," Eren said, scratching with the back of his neck. "But I _am_ sorry. I'm saying it to both of you, because I know I owe you guys one."

 

"I'm sorry too, Eren. I shouldn't have picked a fight with you in the first place," Jean said reluctantly.

 

Eren shrugged like it was no big deal, but he was also clearly ashamed of himself. "And I shouldn't have called you those... those things I called you, I guess. I mean, I was rubbed the wrong way, and my rational thoughts just went flying out. You know." There was another short pause. "I'm also sorry for scaring you away, Armin. Both with what I said and what I did. I came off as insensitive. I feel really guilty for, uh, ruining stuff. I don't think I need to explain that anymore."

 

The blond looked up at the boy with a neutral expression, their eyes meeting. "Well, personally, I think I overreacted and I acted real immature, too. I couldn't confront myself and my feelings, because I was... scared, I guess you could say. But thank you," he said softly.

 

"We all were immature. In one way or another."

 

"And I'm sorry for lying and keeping secrets," the blond continued simply. "That was probably the whole reason why things went downhill."

 

Eren smiled at him softly, and it was a look at suited him. “Apology accepted.”

  
  


Armin looked at both of them. Jean was still sitting by his side, leaning back into his arms, which were outstretched behind him. He certainly looked more at peace, though. The blond was glad that Jean was incredibly understanding, at the end of the day. Fine, he was brash, and didn’t have a filter on his mouth sometimes, but it was all because he was realistic.

 

Eren, on the other hand, sat on the long edge of his bed, looking at no one in particular. It was silent for awhile, but finally, the comfortable kind of silence. Armin was fairly surprised — things were resolved pretty quickly and easily with just a few apologies. Eren and Jean... well, the still probably had some animosity between them, but they were definitely more civil now. That was all Armin could hope for after all this. Peace and understanding.

 

* * *

 

How Eren and Jean ended up bonding over Call of Duty on the brunet's laptop a few hours later, Armin had no idea.

 

The two were sprawled on the floor with potato chip crumbs in their hair, sharing the laptop. Armin checked his phone — it was well over five thirty in the afternoon, and the sight in front of him was too amusing to pass up. He ended up taking a few secret pictures of them as their wide eyes were glued to the screen.

 

"You fuckin' suck at at this, oh my god," Eren snorted out.

 

"It's not my fault I don't bum around all day playing Call of Duty! I'm not even that bad."

 

The brunet laughed. "It's not bumming around. It's called being _productive_."

 

Jean's eyes narrowed, nudging Eren to the side more. "That's like, the complete opposite of what productive is."

 

"Whatever."

 

It was hard to believe that they were at each other's throats just the other night. Armin was comfortable where he was. They had asked him if he wanted to join the fun ("And get Doritos somehow sprinkled all over my head? No thank you," Armin retorted), but he immediately declined. Eren solemnly agreed that the Doritos didn't deserve to touch the blond's sacred hair. He earned an annoyed and uncomfortable nudge from Jean.

 

"What? Too soon to flirt with him?" Eren had grinned mischievously.

 

"Just get back to the game."

 

* * *

 

A few minutes after six thirty, there was a solid knock on the door. "When I come in, you three—"

 

"No, wait! We're having a threesome!" Eren moaned out fakely, rolling over, and shot both of them a wide grin. He and Jean had retired from Call of Duty and had moved on to simply chatting up Armin to pass the time. Things were still sort of awkward, only minisculely, though. Some silences were still too silent, and some playfully flirty comments made by Eren were too... well, flirty for comfort. They had just awkwardly coughed those ones off and quickly switched to the next topic.

 

"Wait, seriously?!" Mikasa cried. In fairness, Eren's moan was pretty believable.

 

" _Jesus_ , no. You can come in."

 

The door squeaked open and the smell of pizza spread into the small room. The girl at the door surveyed them suspiciously. “So. Was there another fistfight?”

 

Armin was the one to speak up. “No, thankfully.”

 

“Are you three at least friendly with each other now? Eren? Jean?”

 

Jean got up from his place on the floor, patting off the dirt (and chip crumbs) from his pants. “Uh, I guess so?”

 

“Hey, we even bonded over COD, Mikasa. I think that counts for something,” Eren said, eyeing his roommate. “But seriously. We’re okay.”

 

“Should I believe them, Armin?”

 

The blond let out a soft laugh and shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, at first they were quarreling again, but things eventually settled down.”

 

Mikasa breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god. Told you it would work,” she said smugly, flicking the end of her scarf over her shoulder. “I ordered pizza, by the way.”

 

“Now _this_ is why I moved in with you,” Eren moaned. He was the first one out of the room, with the black haired girl closely following him into the small kitchen.

 

Armin and Jean were left behind, standing alone in the room.

 

“Hey,” the taller one said, softly poking the blond’s upper arm.

 

“Hey yourself.”

 

“Um. We’re good right?”

 

Armin smiled sincerely. “I am if you are. As long as I don’t see any dramatic status updates of yours on Facebook,” he said teasingly.

 

Jean’s face turned slightly pink. “That was _one_ time!”

 

“Yeah, yeah. We’re good. But we’re going to have to decide who gets custody of the dorm room.”

 

“Oh, uh. Okay. Well, you can have it, I guess–”

 

“Let’s talk about it some other time, yeah? I’m starving,” Armin said.

 

The two walked to the kitchen/living area, and Eren was already digging in wholeheartedly into the cheesy mess. Mikasa was begging him to use a plate, because the toppings were already falling to the floor, but the brunet drowned her out and continued to stuff the food into his mouth.

 

The girl eventually gave up, sighing, and turned to Armin and Jean, giving them a plate each. “Here you go. Dig in.”

 

They didn’t have a proper dining table, so the four squeezed together on the couch, with Mikasa flipping through channels looking for something good to watch. They eventually settled on Legally Blonde the Musical, and Jean kept poking fun at Eren for memorizing all the lyrics to the songs.

 

The rest of the evening went on like that, with their half-hearted bickering and wrestling over the TV remote. Mikasa kept looking over to Armin, making sure he was alright. The girl was like a big sister he never had, or like the cool aunt that you asked for relationship advice from. Eren was lucky to have her, and although he didn't know much about the extent of their relationship, they seemed pretty close, almost like siblings.

 

When Eren reluctantly got up to do the dishes (it was a grand total of three plates, but he still whined about it), Legally Blonde had just ended. The pizza was long gone, and Armin picked at the cheese on the box.

 

After the second movie they settled on ended, Mikasa all of them were already half asleep on the couch. Except Eren — he was still happily munching on Pop Tarts and milk, flipping through the channels. Groggily, Mikasa checked her phone, and it was already well into the night. She groaned and stretched.

 

"I think you two should head home already," she said softly, shaking both of them awake. Armin was snoozing daintily on the edge of the couch, and Jean's head on Eren's right shoulder. "Hey."

 

Eren turned to look at them and smiled. And then he frowned. "Mikasa, it's only eleven, come on! We're still having fun!"

 

"You're the only one still having fun. Besides, they probably have class tomorrow," she grumbled, still trying to wake the two boys.

 

Eventually, Armin blinked awake, and confusedly looked around. "What time is it?" he asked with a wide yawn.

 

"It's just eleven," Eren pouted, his mouth full with Pop Tart crumbs.

 

"Eleven?!" the blond shrieked. "My Art-Biology class is with Prof. Zoe at _seven_ tomorrow!"

 

The brunet's eyebrows shot up. "Art-Biology? That's a thing? Gross."

 

"Excuse me, it's very interesting!"

 

The whole outburst was effective enough in waking Jean up. Unlike Armin, he was more coordinated when he woke up. "What the hell is going on?"

 

Mikasa sighed, and rolled her eyes. "You two are going home. Tomorrow is a school day."

 

"Okay, okay, we're going," Jean groaned as he got up from his uncomfortable position on the couch. "Hey, can I have a piece?"

 

Eren shrugged, handing him a Pop Tart.

 

Finally, Armin and Jean were out the door a few minutes after. Mikasa went to the bathroom for a shower and said her goodnights already. She also had an early day the next day. Eren stayed on the couch, finally being able to stretch his legs out. The TV was still on, providing background noise. Some Japanese game show was on.

 

He took out his phone and opened Facebook, wondering if he was friends with Jean already. He added him, laughing to himself over the other boy's Facebook name. Jeanny TooHotForYou Kirstein. Seriously?

 

Eren's friend request was accepted within minutes. They were probably back at the dorm, crappy wifi and all, he thought fondly. There were times he needed to sneak in and crash on Connie's floor for a week because he had lost his keys and Mikasa was abroad for a study trip. The internet situation was a nightmare – it took a good fifteen minutes to login to his email.

 

He scrolled through Jean's profile, snickering at various posts on his wall from various middle-aged women (presumably his relatives, Eren hoped) who were all inquiring if he had a girlfriend yet, or posting badly-edited posters outlining the dangers and risks of marijuana. But there was a certain status update that he couldn't help but press like on.

 

**Jeanny TooHotForYou Kirstein feeling like shit**

_One week ago at 7:23 PM_

I cant believe it.. i cant go on anymore,i hate being "on break". Does that mean we broke up?? Please help.. what  is my life anymoer

 

Eren commented a " _lol nice name dude_ ". Just to mess with him.

 

The reply came a few short seconds later.

 

_Asshole i was drunk when i typed that and besides i dont even know how to change my goddamn name okay?? **Eren Jäger**_

  


Chuckling, Eren locked his phone and got up to call it a night. But then his phone vibrated again, indicating he had a notification.

 

To his amusement, Jean's mother had commented on the status.

 

_JEAN!!WHAT IS THIS?? GIVE ME A CALL NOW. AND DON"T CURse_

 

* * *

 

The next day, Armin and Jean (who was still mortified at his mother's Facebook comment from last night) received a message from Eren on the group chat the boy had created.

 

The blond was in class when his phone notified him, so he sneakily checked it under the desk. Prof. Zoe was excitedly discussing video-probe microscopy, going through the slides of her Powerpoint presentation way too quickly for her students to take decent notes.

 

**Eren Jäger**

_hey i jsut got a great idea i swear_

 

**Jeanny TooHotForYou Kirstein**

_What??? Im eating rn might reply a bit late._

 

**Eren Jäger**

_u literally havent changed ur name_

_dude<https://www.facebook.com/help/173909489329079>_

  


**Jean Kirstein**

_OK THANK YOU that’s been my name since like middle school idk_

_Whats your idea?_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_hi armi_

 

**Armin Arlert**

_I’m in class_

**Eren Jäger**

_this will be rly quick and you dont even need to reply just hear me out on it bcos i personaly think it solves all our problems_

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_Dude just spit it out._

_btw your typing sucksssssss_

  


**Eren Jäger**

_ok ok chill.. i was thinking whta if we have a 3way relationship.??_

_like a polyamorous thing_

  


**Armin Arlert**

_what gave you that idea?_

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_whta the hell_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_it just came to me lik an EPIPHANY. everyone is loved,, everyone is happy_

_i dont see any flaws_

_like literally none_

_n o n e_

 

**Armin Arlert**

_I dont think it would be smart. Well I don’t know, I’ve never been in one and I don’t know anyone in that kind of relatinship so I can’t say for sure._

_** relationship_

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_Stuff like that only works well in theory dude_

_besides I dont even like you in that way._

 

**Armin Arlert**

_Haha, yeah that would be a problem_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_awwwwww then the relationship can be armin-centric :ppp_

_y/y??_

 

**Armin Arlert**

**:/**

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_Lol_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_i think we get along just fine jeann_

_come onnnnnn_

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_Dont call me that_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_u guys r no fun. like literally_

_just passed up a prefectly good opportunity imo -.-_

 

**Armin Arlert**

_Prof just called me up to recite bye_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_bye ://// :((((((((_

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_Bye amrin_

 

**Eren Jäger**

_hands off whats mine bish!!!_

 

**Jean Kirstein**

_Wtf?_

 

* * *

The three of them got along in an odd way, like puzzle pieces that weren’t really each others’ matches but were forced to fit together anyways. It was bizarre, but fun in its own way, Armin supposed. Usually it was Eren to initiated their barely coherent online conversations (most of them were in the dead hours of the night), sending them blurry pictures of random things. Sometimes, it was something completely desultory, like a funny shaped scab he had somehow acquired. On other occasions, the pictures Eren sent were actually really nice, like the bed of flowers growing outside his and Mikasa’s apartment complex.

 

His and Jean’s bickering was amusing, to say the least, and Armin enjoyed watching them fire messages back and forth at each other. One time, Eren had accidentally flirted with Jean, and he had flirted back. It was awkward for a good minute or two with no new messages coming up. Armin typed a long “hahahahahahahaha” into the chatbox and sent it out. The next few messages were filled with denial and humiliation, each claiming something along the lines of “I’d never flirt with that ass”. It was Eren’s naturally flirty nature to be blamed, maybe. The two other boys were nice to talk to, especially when they were joined together in one space (which was Facebook’s private messaging app, at least for now).

 

But Armin had another thing on his mind. It wasn’t actually an issue, just another one of his self-made concerns. A week had passed since the three made up, then two, then it was nearing the third. He was still in the same dorm room as Jean. Neither of them had filed for a request for a change in room yet, and the other boy hadn’t even brought it up. Ever.

 

Realistically, Armin didn’t need to be worried about it – in fact it was saving him the stress of finding a compatible roommate and going through the trouble of trying to get along with whoever that would be. He wondered, though, if Jean found it awkward or uncomfortable, but then again, he wasn’t showing any signs of that at all. He seemed perfectly fine with the arrangement, and the two were civil with each other, even auspicious, Armin dared to say. Their relationship wasn’t the same, obviously, and it would never be – but it was a different brand of companionship.

 

But the blond couldn’t let the issue go, due to his self-conscious conscience. When Jean got back to the dorm that night with a heavy plastic bag overflowing with Chinese takeout, Armin decided to bring up the topic.

 

“I brought home your favorite!” Jean called out, wrestling his parka off. It was beginning to get colder and colder outside, with the threat of winter and snow quickly arising faster than anyone could manage. Winter sales were popping up in countless stores, and students flocked over to hopefully find deals and excuses to throw their old, ratty coats out. Jean’s jacket was new, in fact (he got it at 75% off), and Armin even helped him pick it out when he was dragged out on an impromptu shopping trip.

 

Things were awfully domestic between the two of them, the blond realized, both horrified and painfully amused.

 

Jean set the food out on paper plates and poured some Coke. “Could you get the spoons and forks out of the bag?”

 

“Sure,” Armin said with a shrug. “So.”

 

“So…?”

 

“About the dorm room.”

 

The taller boy leaned against the desk where the food was placed and shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth. “Dorm room?”

 

“It isn’t weird that we’re still, uh. Sharing a room?”

 

Jean breathed quickly out of his nose, giving Armin a small chuckle. “You’re making it weird if you say that.”

 

“I’m not making it weird!” the blond squeaked. “I mean, it saves us from a lot of hassle but I don’t want to make you think that I’m forcing you into still being roommates.”

 

“You’re not forcing me into anything. If anything, I’m comfortable. Were we not friends before getting into a relationship?” Jean asked simply.

 

“We were…”

 

“I don’t see a problem then, unless you want to find another dorm. Can’t stop you there,” he said, chewing his food at the same time.

 

“Well, alright,” Armin sighed, putting some sweet and sour pork on his plate. “I just wanted to go over that with you.”

 

“I’m glad you did,” Jean affirmed. “Don’t sweat it. I like living with you, uh. Boyfriend or not.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

The talks of having a three-way relationship didn’t die out, as Eren kept the idea very much alive in their group chats. Armin brushed off the idea, not even putting much thought into it. But the brunet was damn persistent, claiming that it would be awesome and “the best decision they’d ever make”.

 

The blond received a text one day, from Eren, asking him to meet him at the Starbucks near the dorms. According to him, he needed to discuss something really, really important with Armin, and it couldn’t wait.

 

He had even used correct capitalization and spelling in the text (that played a big part in convincing Armin to actually go, but he would never admit it). Eren and his dirty tricks.

 

When he got to the coffee shop, the brunet was already curled up in the corner in one of the big armchairs, scrolling through his phone. There were four empty cups on the table, all with the name “Eren” scrawled on the side. Exactly how long was he even here?

 

“Exactly how long were you even here?” Armin asked, suddenly standing in front of the table near the other boy, hands cozily tucked into his thick cardigan.

 

“Uh, maybe five hours? They can’t kick me out if I’ve given them so much business,” Eren grinned, vaguely motioning to the empty cups.

 

“Why?” the other asked, taking a seat in the armchair across. He lazily stretched his back, silently thanking every deity that his back could finally get a rest from those uncomfortable lecture hall seats.

 

With an annoyed huff, the brunet rolled his eyes dramatically. “Mikasa needed to study for her big economics final so she practically kicked me out for an indefinite amount of time. So here I am.”

 

Armin laughed and shrugged. “Hey, semestral freakouts happen to me too. My finals are in two weeks so I’m kinda getting to that point.”

 

Eren only mock-gagged.

 

“So why am I even here? I would’ve been having a romantic date with my textbooks, but I cancelled just for you,” the blond teased.

 

“Well…,” the brunet said mischievously. Armin felt a wave of fear wash over him with the look on the other boy’s face. “Oh! Speak of the devil. He’s here.”

 

“Wait– who?”

 

It was Jean, stumbling into the Starbucks; it looked like he had been in a rush to get there.

 

“Jean!” Eren called out, waving his right hand around from the seat.

 

The tall boy spotted him with a nod and went towards the table, and he was quite taken aback when he also spotted the familiar head of blond hair, matched with the equally-familiar perplexed face.

 

“I didn’t know you invited him here too,” Jean said casually to Eren when he got to their table. “Well, I was kinda confused in the first place that you had something to tell me that was so important.”

 

“I was equally confused,” Armin sighed, eyeing the brunet.

 

Eren had a shit-eating grin on his face, his green eyes bright and playful. “Well… uh, this is our first date!”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

 

Jean proceeded to sit down next to Armin who was just staring at the brunet blankly. He had rushed all the way over here, thinking it was something that was _actually_ urgent…

 

“And before you say anything,” Eren rushed (still grinning widely), “this is an important thing to attend to.”

 

The blond let out his millionth sigh of the day and shook his head. “You know what…,” he paused, thinking of something useful to say. But instead of continuing, he just exhaled resigned “okay”.

 

Jean grumbled – it didn’t seem like he had a choice. With that, Eren whooped and pumped his fist in the air, which gained the attention of the other tired-looking customers.

 

“So,” Eren declared. “I don’t know how to do this.”

 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Jean muttered to himself. “I didn’t agree to this.”

 

Armin shook his head in defeat. “Eren… Uh. Why don’t you tell us how you think this is a good idea?”

 

“Well,” the brunet cleared his throat. “I think it would be fun to have two boyfriends.”

 

“Just because you think it’ll be _fun_?!” Jean cried.

 

“Can we at least give it a dry run? Like we’ll go on dates and stuff and let’s say… after a month if it doesn’t work out we can just forget it ever happened and go back to being friends?” Eren suggested hopefully. He looked to Armin.

 

“I– I don’t know. It _could_ be fun, and since I had feelings for both of you…,” the blond admitted reluctantly, tucking his hair behind his ears.

 

“How do you know this’ll even work out?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“What the hell, Eren? You can’t just do that, it’ll fuck with your feelings because there’ll now be _two_ people you have to look out for, to make sure you’re not hurting–”

 

“If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t!” Eren defended. “You can’t be reluctant to do things just because you’re so damn scared it won’t go your way!”

 

This was something Armin never thought he would do in his lifetime, but the more the brunet spoke about it, the more convinced he was becoming. He had reservations about it, like the very obvious one that could turn out to be problematic in a matter of time – the fact that he was willing to jump into getting back together with not one, but two of his ex-boyfriends. _They’re exes for a reason, Armin_ , the little voice inside his head whispered tauntingly. But the idea of it made him oddly excited, curious even, as to how things would mesh together.

 

“Well don’t we all wish things could be that simple,” Jean scoffed and scowled at Eren.

 

“But it _is_! You’re making it complicated.”

 

Jean huffed and scrunched up the sleeves of his jacket. Eren rolled his eyes and his lips hardened into a slight frown. “Stop thinking too much. You’ll only get one chance in your lifetime to have two amazing and absolutely gorgeous boyfriends, and this is it. Do something crazy for once!”

 

“You and I have _very_ different ideas of what crazy is,” the taller one said, exasperated. “I’m trying to think rationally here, and I’m trying to keep my head on my shoulders but thanks to you it always seems to get knocked out of place!”

 

“That’s your problem! Stop thinking rationally!”

 

“What– did you even hear yourself? Stop thinking rationally?” Jean faltered.

 

Eren groaned dramatically. “I’m not fuckin’ deaf, dude. Take a chance!”

 

“Eren,” Armin warned, as soon as he sensed things could get heated up once again. The brunet had always been reckless – sometimes too reckless when he decided he would do things just because he could. Reckless, stubborn, but well-meaning – that was Eren. Behind that seemingly immature rashness, Eren was also smart, not book smart though, obviously, but he possessed a unique sense of wisdom. It took a lot of patience and understanding to get comfortable with the boy, and Jean obviously wasn’t yet. Hell, the brunet dropped out of a perfectly good private school at the drop of the hat just because he realized he could. He lived all over, jumping from city to city with the money that was supposed to pay for his tuition, and got lucky he was good looking enough to land his modeling gigs. He could’ve stayed in New York and grown up to be a rich city boy, but instead he was here, in a dorm building Starbucks wearing an outfit that was probably all bought from a thrift shop.

 

Eren was simple, with unambiguous intentions. He expressed what he wanted freely and sincerely, and it made him look like an asshole to some people (Armin had first hand experience with that), but he was completely the opposite, actually.

 

But Jean – he was more meticulous. He was more careful, and had a penchant for playing safe.

 

“You know what?! Fine!” Jean suddenly snapped, standing up from the cushiony armchair. “I’ll go on goddamn dates with you two, I’ll even put heart emojis next to your names on my phone, I’ll–”

 

“Really?!” Eren stammered, also jumping to his feet, surprised by the sudden outburst. They had garnered quite an audience from the other customers, which only Armin had noticed of course, and he could only imagine how ridiculous they looked.

 

“Yes, really, before I change my mind,” the taller boy affirmed.

 

With a sigh the blond asked, “So, when can we set the first date?”

 

“This is our first date, Armin,” Eren said.

 

“Our first real one. I don’t think this actually counts.”

 

“Details, details. Uh. On Saturday? I know a really good Japanese place, and I even get secret discounts because my friend works there. I’ll text you!”

 

“Whatever,” Jean grumbled.

 

Armin shrugged nonchalantly, but a small smile was threatening to sprout on his face. The brunet grinned, sat back down, and pulled out his phone to text Mikasa.

  


**To: Mikasa A**

_6:14. guess who has 2 boyfriends now B)_

 

**From: Mikasa A**

_6:16. Studying for econ go away_

  


**From: Mikasa A**

_6:17. WAIT WHAT?????_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i had a really hard time writing this chapter... i'm still getting to know my characters and sometimes it's hard to think about how they would react to certain things while not getting too ooc?? but majority of the scenes in this chapter were actually part of my original conception of this fic and i was pretty excited to write it, even if it was difficult.........
> 
> thanks for reading and talk to me on tumblr: armemearlert . i track the tag fic:color it in !
> 
> please leave kudos + comments to tell me what you think :-D


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